My wife Mary Ellen has a walk-in closet, but this evening she walked in at 7 p.m. and didn’t come out until midnight. Another few minutes and it would have become a sleep-in closet.
You see, the Wolfsies are planning a mid-summer cruise and this is a ritual Mary Ellen goes through before every trip. She is not the kind to go out and spend money on a new wardrobe until she has exhausted every possible combination her current articles of clothing might provide.
I’m no numbers wiz, but my buddy Chuck who teaches math at IUPUI told me that assuming she has 5 pairs of shorts, 2 skirts, 9 shirts, 8 pairs of sandals and, let’s say, 6 necklaces, this represents about 200 billion different combinations. I did not mention this to my wife because she’s already under enough pressure to get this all done by the end of July. Also, that’s a lot of times to walk up and down the stairs just to ask for my opinion—which she never takes.
By the way, I face a similar choice dilemma when I have to pick four toppings out of 32 for my pizza. But here’s the difference…hmmm, maybe there isn’t a difference.
When Mary Ellen finds her way into the den, she is often wearing a different fashionable shoe on each foot and asks me, “What do you think?” The first several times she did this, I suggested that it was probably more appropriate that her two shoes match each other. It wasn’t funny the first time I said this, so you can imagine how annoying it’s gotten after a week. But at least she is soliciting my fashion judgment.
“Do you like these sandals with these shorts?”
“Actually, I’m not really fond of that combination, Mary Ellen.”
“Fine, then, I’ll ask someone else.” That’s when she asks our son…
“I think they look really cool together, Mom.”
Brett is going to make a wonderful husband.
The truth is that Mary Ellen is an excellent traveler, including her ability to pack efficiently. She actually thinks about it before she starts. You can understand why this bothers me. It’s like creating a shopping list before you hit the grocery store or asking directions when you’re lost. Where’s the spontaneity? The adventure?
Before packing, she takes into account stuff like climate. Then she looks at the itinerary to see how many evenings will require formal clothing. Then she mixes and matches various outfits as I have explained above, so she can dress differently each day, but pack the fewest things. Then—oh this will just kill you—she reflects on how to actually put her clothing in the suitcase so it takes up less room. I love her to death, but is this annoying, or what?
I have a different approach. I buy suitcases about the same size as my bureau drawers. For every day we’re gone, I throw in a drawer. This system has never failed. True, one time in Hawaii I had 50 pairs of socks, four wool sweaters and one pair of underwear.
Men learn to throw a football, hit a wedge shot and fly fish. But no self-respecting man would put down his Budweiser to learn the fine nuances of packing. Mary Ellen says she learned the art of preparing her suitcase from her mother and that I would be well served to find a similar role model in my life.
When I was a kid, I watched my grandmother stuff a turkey. That was good enough for me.
