I heard the water turn off, then the shower door click open in the master bath upstairs.
"What did you do with the clothes you were folding last night?"he yelled.
"I put them away," I called back, mischievously, from the living room couch where I was playing with the girls.
"Where?" he groused.
"Somewhere I thought would be more convenient for me," I smiled.
I went to the kitchen cupboard to the right of the sink and picked up a pair of Fruit of the Looms that lay between the pint glasses. The pint glasses that until two weeks ago - a day or two before Thanksgiving, mind you - had been in the cupboard to the left of the sink. At that time, plates had been in this cupboard. Where they belonged. Where they made sense. Until he switched them because the plate cupboard was "too crowded."
On the stairs to our bedroom, I thought, "He thinks he can mess with me," and almost laughed.
He was in the closet putting on a shirt, and trying to look mad at me but failing. If the girls weren't wide awake downstairs, I might have attacked his half-naked body right there. Another time.
When I handed the underwear to him, he asked, "So where did you put them?"
"Oh, downstairs somewhere," I teased. "Think of them as your own little Elf on the Shelf."
