One of the frustrating things about being a wife and mother is the unspoken expectation that I can somehow subconsciously keep track of everyone’s shit, all the time.

Totally unfair, considering I have considerable trouble keeping track of my own stuff even with careful consideration.

This morning, HRH asked me where his luggage strap was. I’m like, “What’s a luggage strap?” He went on to tell me that he either put it on top of my suitcase, or maybe in one of the pockets, when I had the suitcase out and open mid-pack a month ago.

There are just too many variables here.
Of course, the critical variable of
X=tell me when you put things in (or around?)my luggage
is unknown.

So. Perhaps it is bad of me (and HRH certainly seems to think so,) but I feel no sense of responsibility over this missing strap. I gave a meaningless apology (cause that’s what you do in Japanese,) and made a hallow promise to look for it later. Which I probably won’t get around to it this week because I have a whole lot of stuff to do for the kids’ schools. Plus there’s the whole I-don’t-know-what-it-is-I’m-supposed-to-be-looking-for aspect.

And no doubt there will be all kinds of other lost crap to keep up with in the meantime.


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