We’re officially in the middle of our roadtrip.
Being forgetful/scatter-brained means that it is guaranteed that I will forget something. The only question is what it will be, and how important it will be.
Leaving the house for a vacation is one of the many times when I am extremely grateful for my hubby.
He . . . completes . . . me.
My thing: running around like a maniac, brainstorming every teeny tiny possibility of what we might need, making multiple lists, carrying the lists with me everywhere I go so I can write something down the moment I think of it, throwing things in at the last minute.
Not my thing: walking around the house turning off lights, flushing toilets, checking the air conditioner, the iron, the stove, the oven, the coffee-maker, etc. etc etc.
Thankfully, those are his thing. I was especially mindful of what a relief it is to have him do those things after I left the coffee-pot on earlier in the week when he wasn’t there while we were leaving.
I told him how much I appreciated him, and I shared a story which he hadn’t heard before.
When I was about 15, my parents went out of town, and I stayed with a friend because I was going to leave for church camp while they were gone. The day before I left, I went home to pack, bringing several friends with me. I distinctly remember lots of laughing (as those are the kinds of things I do remember.)
My parents returned home at least a full day-and-a-half after I had left for camp. They found . . . the iron left on . . . and (are you ready for this?) . . . the front door standing wide open.
Evidently, our neighborhood was safe enough that no one walked away with all of our stuff . . . but not quite cozy enough that anyone came over and closed the door.
As my husband listened to my story, his eyes were as wide as I’ve ever seen them. But it was his response that cracked me up.
“If you had told me this story when were dating, I would have been shocked and bewildered. But now, although it’s a shocking story . . . I can totally believe it.”
I love that man.