If you’ve been following me on Snapchat, you know I went to our summer house this weekend and due to some last minute scheduling changes, my husband had to pack for me. People loved seeing Mike’s selections so much, I thought it was a shame to let them disappear after 24 hours and should be commemorated for all eternity on the blog.
First, I should specify that the “scheduling changes” consisted of Mike deciding he wanted to leave early to avoid traffic. We usually come home from work, pack and then leave after dinner. But since we’ve started officially celebrating Shabbat on Friday nights (thanks to the Super Jews), that time has been pushed later and later. Mike thought it made more sense to eat dinner out at the house.
“Can you come home right now to pack and leave?”
“Ummm…not exactly. I’m meeting with my editor on Monday to discuss layout changes for the book and I’ve still got work left to do.”
“What if I got your stuff together and picked you up with the kids in an hour?”
“Uhhhh…sure. Do you think you can pack for me?”
“How hard could it be?”
SPOILER ALERT: Very hard.
Mike’s packing and pick-up went as planned. We got to the house early Friday, went grocery shopping and had Shabbat dinner just the four of us. It was actually the most relaxed family dinner we have had in a long time. I commend my husband for the decision to come out early. Then the kids went to bed and I put on a pair of pajamas I keep at the house.
The next morning we woke up, had pancakes, puttered around in our PJs and made plans for friends to come over at noon. That’s when I went through my bag for the first time looking for something to wear.
Uhhh… what the hell is this stuff…?
“Mike! Were you drunk when you picked out my clothes???”
“I just grabbed some stuff.”
“I CAN TELL.”
Not only was there no thought put into what clothing created actual outfits, even the individual items looked like a blind man had his dog pick them out.
For instance, I had to texted Mike to make sure he packed my white camisole because I usually wear it under a lot of my tops that are kind of see-through. I figured there would be less he could go wrong with, as long as he included this VERY IMPORTANT BASIC.
Well, apparently, Mike is not familiar with the word “camisole.” He thinks a camisole is something closer to a negligee and packed an item of clothing I haven’t worn since August 4th, 2007.
Did he question why I would ask for this? Nope! Maybe he thought I was planning something special. In any case, the robe was obviously not going to help me put together an outfit to welcome our lunch time guests.
What else did he pack?
A few days ago, I had taken two old dresses out of my closet and put them on the floor because I didn’t like them anymore and was intending to donate them to the salvation army.
Hmmm… wedding robe or dress meant for the garbage? This is a tough choice! I know what you are thinking— did he pack pants?
You bet he did! He packed a pair of my maternity pajama pants.
Completing the potential looks was a backless purple top. (I guess I could put my wedding robe underneath for modesty’s sake.)
And an equally revealing sweater.
Fyi, THIS IS WHY I ASKED FOR THE CAMISOLE.
I went through the bag again to see if I could unearth anything else and all I could come up with was a t-shirt that professed my undying love for root vegetables.
Ultimately, I put back on the same outfit I had worn in the car out to the house. Thank god the weekend is over and we are now home because after three days, I finally get to change my clothes.
I mean, not all men, I suppose, but geez Mike. OPEN YOUR EYES NEXT TIME!
If you would like to follow me on Snapchat (where this story was way funnier in video form), follow me at ilanawiles.