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This Sort of Thing Makes Me Crazy
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I bought him Microsoft Office, the complete suite. Not cheap, but programs we use all the time; therefore, worth the money.

I wanted to load it on my new laptop. I asked him where the software was. He replied, "It's wherever you left it, honey." I said that my memory was that I had given it to him (as a gift) and the last I saw of it, he was opening the box.

As we sat discussing Google Earth just a few minutes ago, my eye fell on the box. Aha! Microsoft Office is right here. I opened the box and it was empty, bare, hollow.

I asked him where the CD was and he pointed to a stack of jewel cases. "Probably over there," he said. OK, not a problem, I thought. I'll just riffle through the jewel cases until I find it.

I found the case which held the CD once upon a time, but it too was empty.

I've promised him not to get angry, critical or sarcastic, but it's at times like this that my resolution is sorely tested. "Where is it?" I asked, as nicely as I could manage.

"I don't know. Maybe in that pile of CDs over there." I looked at the collection, half on the side table, half spilled onto the floor, probably by a cat, and maybe walked on, too, probably by a dog.

I picked them up, dusted off the cat hair and such, and checked through them. No sign of Office.

So a few hundred dollars gone for good. It drives me crazy. But I have to remember that if someone is not responsible for his actions, if someone is going through his second adolescence, all I can do is try to smile, keep my temper, and say, "That's all right. Don't worry about it. It's only money."

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