Why I Will Marry Him

Last weekend we had to make an unexpected trip to Iowa. Preceding this trip was a flurry of activity, where Biker Boy got a sub for his class, I taught a class, and we packed in less than the time I would ordinarily sleep and pick at my hangnails. In the process, I managed to forget to pack the following items: a toothbrush, my hair mousse, my nighttime facial cream (Biker Boy is inordinately confused by my day and night creams and why is this confusing? my face doesn't need SPF at night, right?), and anything to read while driving for hours except the textbook for my class, which isn't exactly riveting, my friends.

Biker Boy, in a much more mature, slightly less frenzied manner, managed to pack everything he needed for the trip in a bag half the size of mine. I don't think he mentioned to me all weekend that he was missing anything.

Friday morning, I find myself digging around in the kitchen cabinets of my future in-laws for a multi-vitamin because I, of course, had not even CONSIDERED packing said vitamin. In a million years, packing the vitamin I take every morning would never have happened. Biker Boy asked me what I was looking for. I told him about the Great Vitamin Search, he sneered at me (in that oh-so-superior way that people who are good at packing sneer) and said, "oh, I packed your vitamins for you. I knew you'd forget. I'll go upstairs and get them."

And that, my friends, is why I am marrying that boy. Somebody needs to pack my shit for me.

Oh, and, as a side note, everything will be fine in Iowa. There was much crying and time in hospital waiting rooms (and me with only my textbook!), but all seems to be going wonderfully now.