I'm in the kitchen cleaning up or cooking (or doing whatever it is I do that seems to trap me in the kitchen all day) and Molly asks where her footy-jammies are. I reply that they are in the dryer, and ask Joe to go grab them out. He goes into the laudry room and yells, "hon, they're still wet." I ask him to set the drying for a few more minutes, thinking they're probably just barely damp. I hear him punching buttons and then he asks how to turn it on. (All this as I'm walking that direction because in the back of my head I'm wondering if he even knows how to work the dryer.) Well, I enter the laundry room to see him crouched over the machine studying it. The rest of the conversation goes something like this:
Me: Honey, what are you doing?
Joe: Trying to turn on the dryer.
Me: Really, the dryer?
Joe: Yup
Me: And that would be where?
Joe: Right here.
Me: Hmmm, but you know that's the washing machine, right?
Joe: Oh (pause) I was wondering why the clothes were so wet (grinning).
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