Today my husband is wearing a dirty snot (from the youngest) stained shirt because he accidentally wore his kelly green shirt yesterday. I sort of have a rule about wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. Maybe I should remind him that other shades of green still count. I really should have set aside his outfit the way I set aside mine and the girls' earlier this week. It probably would have made him feel loved. He's the kind of guy who looks at me with sad puppy eyes when I don't get around to packing his bag before a business trip or vacation. Then I get to be involved in every decision.
"Should I take the striped boxers or the solid green ones? Oh, I'll just wear the pants I wear on the plane."
"For the whole week?!"
"Yeah, it will be fine."
My mom used to do this to my brother, so I know what's going on. She'd start a project that required the use of hammers, nails and saws and within minutes he'd be out there showing her how it should be done. She'd slip away and before she knew it, well what do you know, he'd have the whole project finished.
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