Packing and Leaving

I think my husband is the bee's knees, and there are very few things he does that bug me.  But one of them is his packing habits.  Anytime he deploys or goes out in the field, he has a terrible habit of waiting until the last minute to pack.  And then he fusses, cusses, and sweats.  He gets mad at the sea of green in the living room and turns into a real bear.  And even though he too hates that he does this to himself, he never seems to change the behavior.

The man honestly packed for 13 months in Iraq the night before.

That does not make for a romantic send-off.

So this time, I swore that I was going to get that man to pack early.  I started coaxing weeks ago, that he should start piling things in the living room and getting situated.  I bought him all his toiletries a month ago so we wouldn't have to run to the store.  I thought we'd spend this weekend packing and then have all this time before he deploys to just relax and be in love.

This time, I swear it's not his fault.

His departure date keeps creeping forward -- once more even since I posted on Friday -- to the point that now he's packing at the last minute anyway.  All of our romantic leisure time has disappeared.

And that leaves us only with packing and leaving.  Again.

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