I'm known--for better or worse--for my propensity to keep things simple. I will experiment with complicated recipes, quilt patterns, book ideas, etc. but when all is said and done I'll analyze the situation and figure out how to do it faster, simpler easier next time.
So of course I married a man who can make anything complicated. For instance, he read that purple food was full of anti-oxidants, so he went to the grocery store and bought beets and grapes and berries and heaven knows what else. He brought it home, cooked it, put it in the blender and made a healthy purple drink. As I looked at my purple-splattered walls and ceilings (the lid had flown off the blender at one point), the kitchen piled with dirty pots and the undrinkable goop my husband was trying to choke down, the obvious question was, "Why didn't you just buy a quart of this stuff at the health food store? Or better yet, take a supplement?"
Over the years we have both learned the fine points of "compromise", though that is something that has not been easy for either one of us. After 45 years we've become pretty darn good at it!
Which brings me to our recent 3200-mile, 10-day road trip. Do you see this? The maroon suitcase is mine. It holds clothes, my laptop, assorted cords and Kindles, plus make-up, shampoo, etc. The rest of the bags--and these are not all of them--belong to my husband.
He hauls his exercise equipment, pillow, blanket, sleep apnea machine, laptop, vitamins, toiletries, food prep equipment, snacks (including oatmeal, oranges and avocados, which he eats for breakfast), water bottles, clothes and cooler into the hotel room every night. We left his banjo at home this year, hoping to buy one on the road, or that would be on the rolling cart, too.
He's cheerfully oblivious to my teasing and eye-rolling, so despite the ridiculous (to my view) amount of bags, we really enjoy our summer road trips. In the fall, when it's time to head back East, I will make my semi-annual attempt to organize and minimalize his bags, but it won't work. I will give up--gracefully--and he will happily load up a rolling cart every morning and every night. And we will both laugh.
Where are you going this summer? And how many bags will you take? What can't you live without?