I look up from my work to see my husband rummaging through the kitchen drawers, obviously agitated and impatient.
"What are you looking for, sweetie?" I ask.
"A screwdriver," he replies, "It needs to be tightened."
"What needs to be tightened?"
"The screw," he says sarcastically as if to imply that perhaps I have a screw loose for not knowing this simple fact.
"Okay," I venture, "What screw?"
"A SCREWDRIVER! You know what a SCREWDRIVER is?!"
"Yes, honey, I know what a screwdriver is. I'm just wondering what you're working on is all," I respond cautiously, fully aware that there's no telling what in the world he is "repairing" and what kind of mess I might have to clean up in a little while. But not mentioning that concern.
"SEE?" He shows he a handful of screwdrivers he has brought from the garage and has found in my tool drawer. "A long thing? With an end on it? To do things with?!"
"Yes, I see," I respond, trying one more time, "I was just asking for more information about your project."
"It's a SCREWDRIVER! You're making me crazy!"
Oh, my darling. The feeling is sometimes so very mutual.