“Are we moving to India or just visiting for three weeks?”. This from the Viking, just because his day is null and void unless he can give me a hard time.
“Shaving gel? Are you for real? You’re carrying shaving gel? You do know that they sell shaving gel in India, right? Or are you expecting a sudden leg-shaving emergency at Santa Cruz airport? During our less than 12 hour transit?”
He got my list! Where did he find my list? He. Must. Never. See. The. List. I’m Schindler about these things.
Good Indian Wife bites back acid comment about how he might want to re-aquaint with shaving gel sometime.
“Three pairs of strappy sandals?” he hoots, “To add to the five you won’t be able to resist once you get there? And will the kids be changed thrice a day with soo many clothes?”
“Right. We’ll all travel barefoot and naked then. Happy?”
Gah, who’s listening? He sauntered off (hooting) light years ago.
Should have added this to the husband checklist 10 years ago: Pick a man you can crush with passive aggressive warfare.
Too late. Always too damn late for the bus.
p.s. Luckily hair product list is still undiscovered. I can breathe a little.