Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Return of Packing Mule

It may have been noticed that the housewife has not posted much lately.

Yoga is going well (so far). I no longer burst into powerful but silent giggles over the thought of a golden light emanating from my innards. Last week's stretching did provoke a somewhat audible WTF? from somewhere deep down inside.

Everything else remains the same.

Another vision of moving on to greener pastures (where there are galleries and coffee shops and such) has been taken out into the back yard and buried. When the possibility of another place pops up, I do some research -- google maps, real estate, schools, child activities, searches for galleries and coffee houses and places of culture. I read the local blogs and check out the crime stats and read the headlines of the local papers online. Then, just a few words and out comes the shovel again.

So, if I'm gonna complain, I'd at least better be funny about it. Here's a rerun from last summer. This past weekend, we went to visit my dad down in Virginia. As usual, I forgot to pack something for somebody. Didn't seem to ruin the weekend. Packing mule (me) kind of worn out though.

Packing Mule

Me, September 10, 2010

Friday morning, the family climbed into the politically-incorrect SUV and drove on down to Richmond, VA, to visit close friends. I should say, the hubby, child and dog climbed in. Here's what I did to prepare for this trip.

Laundry in preparation of travel.
Located 3 bathing suits (pool on premises, wheeeee)
Set up cat's things for cat sitter - all food (dry and wet) with accompanying bowls and plates, medicine, notes for each item.
Packed my suitcase.
Packed daughter's suitcase.
Packed daughter's sleeping bag and pillow.
Made sure hubby had packed allergy meds, wallet, gps.
Packed all meds and creams and shampoos for special needs (except for hubby's - his job, he just gets questioned about it).
Packed road snacks.
Packed dog items for kennel (food, blanket, toys, meds -- we're a bunch of sickos apparently).
Packed CDs for road listening pleasure.
Packed daughter's toys and books and stuffed animals in her backpack.
Pack sunscreen and sunglasses.
Watered plants.
Made sure that birds and squirrels would be fed in our absence.

Then, an hour down the road, someone had the gall to ask ME if I had packed their swim goggles. I said, "No. I did not." Someone said, "Mama forgot my swim goggles." I said, "No, I did not forget your swim goggles. You did. Your daddy did. But I DID NOT." Hubby says, "We all forgot your swim goggles." I recited the list above, and once again stated, "I did NOT forget your goggles.

Shit. Is it because I have tits and ovaries that I'm supposed to remember to pack all the above, including the damn swim goggles? I think not.

Next time, I'm putting my stuff in (and dog's I guess), and I'm climbing in and putting on my CD and screw the rest of 'em. They can wear soiled undies and sneeze from allergies and itch because they have the wrong shampoo and have nothing to read or write with and no stuffed animals and no wallet and nothing to eat but McDonalds (wait, the hubby did prepare sandwiches) no pillows no sunglasses burn from lack of sunscreen. And no freakin' swim goggles.

Packing mule is on strike.

(Apparently, the strike didn't last long.)

1 comment:

  1. Dear Housewife,

    I think the other sex thinks that us with ovaries and tits SHOULD be responsible for checking our packing and check it twice. OMG don't forget the care of the pets and making sure everything is secured while gone.

    We with tits should sit back and plan a trip, BUT let your partner make sure everything is packed and ready to go. And chuckle when the little ones or yourself ask them if they had packed this or that and they mumble, "Shit!"