Clothes versus Outfits 

We got a problem in our Cave.  I am not one to air dirty laundry, but we need some serious counseling.  Okay the problem is that we are going to go to Tonga for two years and we can only have one carry-on bag and two large suitcases to take whatever it is we think we might need.
I could empty out my entire closet and still have a suitcase to spare.  I might throw in a few tools, my lucky rabbit’s foot, my decoder ring, and the latest San Juan Record to read in case I get stranded somewhere.  Perhaps a six pack of Pepsi too. 
But my too kind and loving wife’s “normal” packing routine is causing some marital strife.  And when I say “normal” I in no way mean “normal” because “normal” would imply some level of feeling good and functioning well in society.  The “normal” packing for a weekend trip always starts at least a week early.  Our bed will be covered with outfits right up until the minute we are backing out of the garage. 
To properly put in perspective packing for a trip I insist on only taking a carry-on bag for efficiencies sake.  When my too kind and loving wife talks about packing for a trip, think more along the lines of a moving van.  There is a fine line between packing and moving.  Packing for two years is more like moving. 
The problem I decided is that I pack clothes and she packs outfits.  You might ask what is the difference between clothes and outfits?  I don’t know. 
I pack basics like underwear, socks, shirts and sometimes an extra pair of pants.  My too kind and loving wife has outfits laid out on the bed.  Clothes are merely the first layer, then there are shoes, accessories, toiletries, and several back up outfits, and she always takes a sweater or light jacket.  We can be going to Phoenix in July, and she still packs a light sweater.  I dunno.  And the last layer is the “just in case” layer.
We are not leaving until July, and she already has three suitcases out in our bedroom so she can arrange and rearrange all the necessities.  She asked if she could have one of my suitcases since I probably won’t need it anyway.
I have 10 short sleeve white shirts, five ties, some slacks, underwear and a name tag.  Apparently, they don’t wear shoes in Tonga, just flips-flops.  But I hate that little thing between my toes, so I am wearing my boat shoes.  That’s it.  I think I can fit in my carry-on bag. 
Tongan men wear tupenus (skirts) that reach to the knees.  Last time my too kind and loving wife caught me wearing her skirt…well let’s just say it was awkward.  Although honestly, I thought it made my butt look fat.  Sometimes instead of a tie Tongans wear a ta’ovala around their waist.  So, I am not even sure if I am going to need the ties or the slacks.  Maybe I will just be wearing my skirt and my name tag.  I want to be respectful and fit in, but honestly the only thing worse than a skirt would be pantyhose or a girdle.  T-shirts and running shoes would be my first choice.  But when you go to Rome do as the Romans do.  So, if you are going to Tonga wear what the Tongans wear.
My too kind and loving wife always packs more outfits than days we will be gone.  Do the math, that is roughly 730 outfits.  To maximize efficiency, I usually pack one less shirt than number of days we will be gone so I can buy a souvenir shirt.
For her, there is always a final two outfits that she just can’t decide which one to take.  And believe me I avoid eye contact, I do anything to not get pulled into this decision, but sure enough eventually she drags me in to ask me which one I like. 
First, let me state unequivocally that I am not qualified to offer any opinion on fashion.  But she insists and so I say, “That one.”  Pointing to the one on the left.  She looks a little exasperated, “Why?  I kinda like the other one.”  As she points to the one on the right. 
*&^)&$#*&!!  Why does she do this to me? There is a reason men die younger than women… we want to.
I thought shoe packing would be easy since they don’t wear shoes in Tonga.  Nope.  She has piles of shoes lined up with specific outfits.  I have one pair of shoes that I can wear pouring cement or going to church.  With confidence, I know she gave more thought to choosing shoes for a three-day weekend, than she took picking the names of our children.
She is already stressing about having to clean the house before we leave.  Before any vacation she always scurries about cleaning the house because she says, “I can’t come home to a dirty house.  If we die, people will think I didn’t keep a clean house.” 
The only preparations I made when we left the house for a week was to put out cold cereal for the kids and write grandma’s phone number on the fridge.  “Don’t worry they’ll be fine.” 
I viewed kids much like feral cats that need some time alone to learn how to fend for themselves.  Makes ‘em tough and resilient.
For several reasons, I am sleeping on the couch for the next two months mostly because our bed is covered with outfits.  The UPS man is making daily stops at our house as my too kind and loving wife is ordering shoes and outfits and enough drugs to stock a pharmacy because apparently, we are going to catch every disease known to man.  
Nofo. (Goodbye).

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