You know how you just get some of your fathers gifts in life...Well, I didn't get his lawyerish (my word) smarts, I didn't get his ability to run mile after mile, I didn't get his math skills (I have T for this)or his awesome ability to pay bills on time (I have T for this too), but what I did get was the gift of being just a tad bit on the anal side. Now being like this is not a bad thing, until I start to get on my wife's nerves. Then I get looks, head shakes, and more looks.
So with vacation coming up that means we have tons to do. Actually that means T has tons to do. I sit on my ass all day and she has to pack her stuff, my stuff, and 4 kids things. Also getting food and snacks and whatever else we needs to last us the week at the beach. Now while she will pack all of my shit for me into the suitcase, one thing she probably wont do is actually get all of my shit together. The reason for this is that I will more than likely...
B. Not like what she packed
C. Not have what I need or want
D. Act like such a jerk that she will leave all my shit at home
E. All of the above.
So this Sunday I got a note pad and pen and as I started gathering the clothes that I need to pack. I keep thinking about how many days, how many nights, are we eating out, we will be in Savannah for half a day, will I hit the gym there, all of this is playing out in my (small) brain. T couldn't believe I was actually writing this down.
Pack a little too much?
Kiss the Baby