Tears of Frustration and Cayenne

Last evening when Mr. Fixit came home from work, the first words out of my mouth were not “Hi! Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re home” or “You must be tired. Dinner is ready.” Instead the first words out of my mouth were “You made me cry this afternoon!” He wasn’t even here!

I decided that since our weather has taken a more seasonal turn that chili would be perfect for a cold, rainy day. As I browned the meat, I looked in the cupboard for the little seasoning packet that I had purchased a few days before. I couldn’t find it. Then I remembered where I had last seen it. When I brought in the groceries I was distracted and put the bag with the packet and one more item on the couch. (Yes, where all groceries bags should be left.) I also remember picking up the bag with the intention of putting the items away. My memory after that was a complete blank.

Being the armchair detective I am, I deduced that perhaps the little bag must have been mixed in with the Christmas present bags that Mr. Fixit had placed in the little used downstairs bathroom. The grandchildren were here for a little while Sunday so he stuffed all the unwrapped presents in the shower and closed the curtain. I went through all the bags. No seasoning packet.

I searched the storeroom thinking I must have put in on the shelf there. Nope!

Then I remembered that I had been to the craft store and deduced that perhaps I had brought it upstairs with the little bags of floss and needles. I went through every bag with floss, yarn, and notions. Again, no seasoning packet.

All this time I was becoming more and more frustrated. I went through everything again with the same result. In the meantime, the meat was browned, the tomatoes had been pureed, the extra seasonings were on the counter, but I couldn’t take the next step of putting it all together. The last time I made chili was a disaster because I didn’t have that little packet and used taco seasoning instead. It was not a culinary success.

I was beginning to think I had absolutely lost my mind because I couldn’t remember where I put that darned bag. I was sure that I was in the middle stages of senile dementia. I was literally in tears. It had been a trying day even before the chili problem.

I started the search again and walked to the far end of the living room. I just stood there looking around. There! I spied a small white grocery bag between the end table and the wall and inside was the missing packet. Mr. Fixit, for some reason, put it there. He tried to tell me that I must have put it there and forgotten. Yeah, just like Ingrid Bergman in “Gaslight.”

By the end of dinner, Mr. Fixit had a few tears in his eyes, too, but it may have been because I added a “little” extra cayenne pepper to the delicious chili!