My spouse is famous, or infamous, for forgetting and losing sh*t. I can't tell you how many pairs of sunglasses he has lost or misplaced (because I forget the number). And guessing what he'll forget or lose on a trip has become a kind of running joke, to the point where I literally sit on our bed while he is packing his bag and ask him if he has packed [reels off list of items]. And he will smile at me and say in a slightly patronizing way, "Yes, J_____, I have [reels off list of item." And then, of course, we'll get to wherever and he will have forgotten something.
[Though, to be fair, when we got back from our trip to Canada last week, I realized I had left my brand-new cream-colored capri travel pants at one of our hotels, even though I always triple check our room before we leave. Fortunately, I was pretty sure where I had left them, and the hotel is mailing them back to me, albeit for $25. Still, cheaper than buying a new pair, which I did anyway.]
But yesterday the spouse topped himself. He didn't just forget to pack enough underwear or a belt. He forgot his entire suitcase. Which I discovered at six this morning, outside his office, in our driveway, when I opened the shades. He only discovered his error at 10 o'clock last night, twelve hours after he left our house, when he got to his Airbnb outside DC, where he had a big important meeting this morning -- and claims it was not his fault. He thought his colleague, who was driving, had put the suitcase in his trunk. Though I don't know how either of them could have missed the suitcase sitting in our driveway. (Old age is a bitch, man -- one that requires bifocals and hearing aids and cell phone reminders.)
ANYWAY...
Fortunately for the spouse, there was a 24-hour Walmart near his rental. So off he went, I'm not sure what time, and purchased a new wardrobe, along with a six-pack of beer, for the princely sum of $114.
Not bad, eh?
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