I don't know where your motherfucking pants are

[papie]

I am hosting Thanksgiving dinner today, I am busy making the stuffing, I have two kids running around and whining, and a husband who decides to go jogging. Which, of course, we try to be supportive of each other's running.

But then
"I can't find my jogging pants"
"Did you look in the clean laundry hamper? Did you look in my drawer, sometimes the cleaning lady confuses them"
"Yes and I can't find it! Can you come?"
"No, I'm busy and I don't know where they are"
"Well, I guess I'm going to have to freeze"

A few minutes later, somes stomping down "These pants suck, I'm throwing them in the garbage, I can't find my good ones, there is too much crap in my drawers"

Iignore him.

A few minutes later, very dramatically at the door "It is freezing outside! I guess I'll have to go like that"

Yes, asshole. Because I'm not your mother, and I'm not responsible of your pants or your freezing ass. JUST FUCKING LOOK FOR THEM AND STOP BUGGING ME.

I know he will come dramatically compaining about how his legs froze.