We all go through life with this store of things we know just because we do. Maybe someone told you or showed you along the way, but you can’t quite recall the exact moment it happened or who may have imparted their wisdom to you.  

I can clearly recall being shown how to iron a shirt properly and float on my back, but how did I learn that you have to wear socks when washing the floor to prevent foot prints; doesn’t everyone?

And that is the problem with making the assumption that just because you have always known something, everyone else must have the same set of life skills.

Take for example the extra buttons on shirts and pants. I had assumed that everyone knew where to find them, which was why a few weeks ago I was stunned, actually bowled-over, by a seemingly benign conversation I had with my husband.

He asked me (his first big mistake) if I could sew a button. I may have noticed the pin while doing laundry, but in that brief moment when I gave the matter any thought, I must have decided that he like using pins; that would seem to be the only logical reason he hadn’t sewn on a new button.

At this point I told him where I kept the thread, but he went on to ask where I kept spare buttons. I paused, and said, “Look on the inside of the shorts, probably on the pocket lining.” He thought I had gone quite mad. “Why would I look there?”

“Because that is where the manufacturer puts the extra buttons. Didn’t you know?”

Despite his disbelief, he did look, and in amazement found the extra button. Now, I know that he has had these particular shorts for a few years, and has pulled them on and off hundreds of items. What did he think that button was for?

I went on the tell Jordan, who really thought I was making this all up, that if he looked at the inside of most of his pants, and inside his favourite shirts, he would also find extra buttons, often several buttons if the clothing item had more than one sized button.

“No way!”

But as we pulled out various shirts and turned them inside out, we found the extra buttons either sewn to a label in the side seam, on the side seam allowance, or at the bottom of the front plaquette. I think this may be the first time I have ever seen my husband totally nonplussed. (I have been waiting for eons to use that word in a sentence. Don’t you love words that have a totally opposite meaning from how they sound?)

 How had he missed this information through all his adult life? He had been a bachelor living away from his mother for a dozen years before we met, in which at some time he must have had to replace the button on another favourite pair of pants. He is probably dying to spread this new-found knowledge to someone else if the opportunity arises, so don’t be surprised if someone comes up to you and asks you if you know where your spare buttons are!

Well, that’s my story. It got me thinking about other things that I just know. I remembered my days in Home Ec class in grade 7, where I was the only one who knew that you never rinsed milk or egg dishes in hot water because that would bake the protein and you would end up with a dickens of a time getting the pan cleaned.  I also got brownie points for knowing that you always washed dishes from cleanest —glassware— to dirtiest: plates, cutlery, and finally pots. It just made common sense.

Some things you just stumble on by chance, like the knowledge that a toaster has a trap door for cleaning out crumbs, but it sure would have saved me a lot of time and mess if someone had just told me.

I’m not always so smart. It took a long time for the light bulb to come on when it came to how our tide clock works. It’s one of those 10-hour clocks that counts down 5 hours to low tide and 5 back to high tide; not real time. When I told Jordan not to worry, that I have adjusted the clock for daylight savings time, he suggested that I not tell anyone else what I had just told him.

I get it now and if you don’t, I would suggest that you discreetly ask a good friend who won’t collapse from laughter. I’ll just leave it at that.