Look ladies, I know you think I'm great because I'm a stay at home Manwife with Zac Efron Hair. I'm single-handedly fighting the evil forces of dirt and clutter. But the reality is, I'm a guy. Like any guy I like doodie jokes, am fascinated with my junk and suffer from the same genetic disorders.

First of all, I can't find anything without the aid of a women. I use to think it was just a youth issue. Nope. As a matter of fact, I've just stopped trying. It's like being born with one leg. No matter how hard you try, you're NOT going to grow a new leg. I just save myself the time and don't even bother looking - I go straight to the wife.

"Honey, where did I put my pants?"

The amazing thing is, she has this superhuman ability to stare at me like an idiot while looking through the wall to find them on her side of the closet - where I put them.

And you may be asking yourself, "Why did you put them on her side of the closet?"

Because after almost six years of living in this house, I have NO idea where things go. Especially when it comes to dishware. There are pots and pans in this house that I swear I haven't even seen before. If I haven't seen them, how do I know where they go?

Actually, I did see them, when I unpacked the house and put them in the cabinet they've been in the last six years. But that doesn't count. A lot happened in six years. Yet, somehow, it's MY fault I put it in the linen closet. It was in my hand when I put away the towels. The linen closet seemed to make perfect sense.

Besides, it's very entertaining to watch wifey play the, "Where did David put my sweatshirt" game. Damned if I know.

Lucky for her, my "put the dirty dishes next to the sink not IN it" disease is in remission. Although, I can't say the same for clothes. If it lands on the floor next to the hamper, it's close enough. Besides, dirty clothes have the ability to reproduce, just like dishes. You can win the laundry battle, but you'll never win the war.

Then there is the infamous, "But it wasn't finished" syndrome. You know, where we put back a half a millimeter of orange juice in the fridge because, well, it wasn't finished.

Wifey, holding up a container of orange juice.

"You put back the empty orange juice?"

"No, there was still some left."

"There is about a 32nd of an inch at the bottom. You couldn't finish it?"

"I wanted to save some for you."

You can put the wife into a man, but you can't take the man out of the Manwife. Or something like that.