Here I sit at my computer trying to compose another blog entry and basically blanking. Just like an answer to prayer, I looked at the clock. It's 9:45pm and Hub is supposed to be driving back to AR tomorrow. It occurs to me that he hasnt done much of anything today. I typed this conversation as soon as it was over:
Me: Hey, arent you supposed to be packing or something?
Hub: Yeah but that is nothin'. Im just throwing a few things in the car and going. No biggie.
Me: Wait. What do you mean? You mean you are packing your clothes and moving a majority of them to your temporary housing now, right?
Hub: Yeah. You know. Couple of suits, couple of sweaters, turtlenecks, few socks and underwear, like that.
Me: In a suitcase.
Hub: I wasnt planning on it.
Me: In a plastic bin?
Hub: No. I was just going to throw the shit in the car and drive. There's supposed to be a washer and dryer there in my unit. I will just put the soap in...and...um....push whatever button I am supposed to push.....and well, you know.
Me: Wha...? Dah... HUH???? Throw the shit in the car? No nothing? Clothes laying in the back of the car? Not in bags, not in bins, not in milk-crates? Just in the back of the car? You're shittin' me, right? (but somehow I am doubting this.)
Hub: No. I'm not shitting you. I moved that way before. It just means a few extra steps carrying stuff in and washing whatever I drop en route from the parking lot. No biggie, Tara.
Me: But if you pack it.....Oh man. I see I have to help you with this. Please let me pack your things. I swear you will thank me for doing it my way as opposed to yours. ( I was bracing myself for a fight on this. )
Hub: No. Really. I. Don't. Need. Help. I'll put my razor in a bag if it will make you feel any better.
Me: (panicking now) Honey, you need to let me help you with this. (I am having vivid images of corporate spies watching him tote piles of clothing from the back of his car to his quarters. The report to his boss would be something like this):
Subject appeared to be carrying underclothing from the back of his car into facility when he tripped over some shorts that he dropped and fell forward. Subject retrieved scattered undergarments from parking lot and proceeded to his quarters, uttering unintelligible noises.
Off the record, Mr. Mann, my recommendation is to re-verify that subject has a college degree.
OK. I see I have to protect this man from himself. I will be up early, stuffing plastic bins with organized piles of laundered clothing. I wish I could teleport to the other end to prevent him from living out of those bins. Or...should I.....
Nope. Cant let him muddle through this one. Not with those corporate spies out there. This illustrates of course, that Hub has cleverly tapped into my paranoia as a means to get me to do a lot of his work. Yep. I do believe he is that clever.
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ahhh he is clever!
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