Sunday, hunky left for Long Beach, California, where he'll be all week earning credits so he can keep his various computer industry certifications. And every time he takes a trip, the day before is a nightmare. Translation: Saturday, normally a day for fun for people all around the globe was a nightmare for me.
See, he waits until the last minute to pack and get things ready. I guess most people do, but most people don't have Asperger's or OCD, either, so they can usually just fret, pack, and have it all over with in a couple of hours. Not hunky. No, it takes him almost all day to get himself together, and I bear the brunt of the frustration and aggravation while he does so.
Every time he packs for a trip I say to myself, "Next time, I'm spending the day in a hotel." And I forget this oath to myself some time later, until the next time he takes a trip, when I then hit myself in the head with my hand and berate myself for not remembering to save my sanity by treating myself to a day at a hotel, instead of sticking around the house to get blamed for all the things that have "suddenly" come up missing.
This Saturday, of course, was no exception. We spent part of the day running a few errands to get things he needed for the trip. A couple of pairs of jeans. A travel clock that keeps atomic time (essential, right?). Atkins bars for the trip. Etc.
When we got home, I unpacked his stuff so he could start getting himself ready. Then he (finally) unpacked from his last trip (in November), and I washed all the items he said he needed (most of which he ended up leaving at home). And that's basically all I could do for him, because he knew what he needed and where to find it. Or so I thought.
After placing a load of laundry in for him, hunky happened to come downstairs searching for his toiletries kit. "Where is it? Have you seen it?" I told him I saw one upstairs, and he snapped at me, "No, that's not the right one. I want the small one." When I told him I hadn't seen it, he looked at me for a long time, then muttered something about how I'm always moving things, and stomped upstairs.
For the next 45 minutes, he pretended to look for the toiletry kit. I say "pretend," because basically what he really did was stomp around the house saying "I need my toiletry kit. I need my medicine. Where is it?" It's almost as if he thought that by making a lot of noise and reaffirming its importance, the toiletry kit would miraculously appear out of nowhere and present itself to be packed.
During the time he spent "looking" for said toiletry kit, I actually spent a little time looking for it. I looked in the upstairs bathroom and closet. I looked in a few boxes he brought in from his last trip. But I didn't see it.
So, finally I started doing my own thing, which seemed to infuriate him. "I know you moved it. You are always moving things and putting things away. This is why I don't like you to touch my stuff."
"I didn't touch it. I haven't even seen it!"
Of course, he didn't believe me.
The last time he stomped downstairs, he threatened me with the following: "I'm going to tear the house apart to look for it and it's not going to be pretty." What I didn't say was "too late, buddy," because he'd already made a mess of things by throwing other stuff around the house. I mean, really, how much worse was it going to get?
After making the threat, he glared at me, and then went back upstairs to his office. Because, you know, he was going to find the toiletry kit by Googling it on his computer. (BTW, if you haven't guessed already, most of his "looking" for the toiletry kit seemed to take place in his office, in front of his computer.)
Despite his complete irrationality, I decided to look for the toiletry kit one more time. I went into the downstairs bathroom - a room I never use - and there it was, sitting on top of the toilet. Where he left it.
I grabbed the sucker, went straight into his office without knocking (normally a punishable offense) and said, "Here is your toiletry kit, and guess where I found it? In the bathroom YOU USE, right where you left it."
Sheepish and shamed, he thanked me. He mumbled something unintelligible after that, and I asked him if he even thought to look in the downstairs bathroom. He said "No. I didn't think it would be in there." "Um, well, did you think it was going to be right in front of your computer?" At least he had the grace to laugh at himself after that.
I then asked him if he had found all the computer items he needed (another thing he blamed me for: the missing computer pieces). He said that he found almost everything he needed in, get this, his computer case. Yes. You know, the place where his laptop stuff would most likely be. Then he says, "I also found (insert name of the computer peripheral I have since forgotten here)." As he mentioned this while I was on my way out of the office, I stopped in my tracks. The name of the now forgotten item sounded very familiar.
Wait. Just wait a gosh durn minute…
"Hey, haven't you been accusing me of taking that part for the last few months?"
"Um, yes, I guess I have been. Sorry."
After that, I went into my office, closed the door and went to sleep. And that protected me from his disorganization until Sunday morning, when I took him to the airport.
Which is another story altogether... but seriously, not a bad one.