"IT IS T-MINUS TEN HOURS UNTIL DEPARTURE!! REPEAT… T-MINUS TEN HOURS UNTIL DEPARTURE!! BATTLE STATIONS!! BATTLE STATIONS!! PREPARE TO COMMENCE PACKING!!
Every year, the Morse family embarks on a spring vacation. And, every year, the task of actually packing for that trip is put off until the night before we leave. At nine p.m., The Wife, as she always does in this situation, shifts into hyper drive and begins dashing frantically around the house, trying to cram four days of vacation preparation into one evening.
Tomorrow morning, we will be leaving for a fun-filled trip to sunny Florida. But tonight, our household is at Code Red.
Because once The Wife's transformation from mild-mannered mother into frothing packing-machine takes place, all hell breaks loose. The Kids hide under their beds, trying to breathe as quietly as possible as to not disturb Robo-Mom during her packing frenzy. I trail closely behind The Wife, assisting her as best I can, because A) I'm trying to be a good husband, and B) I'm too big to fit under my bed.
The packing mania reaches its peak at around five-thirty a.m., when The Wife realizes that she cannot possibly fit everything we own into four suitcases.
"Maybe we can leave out the candelabra and the snow shovel," I suggest meekly.
"THEN WHAT ARE WE GOING TO PUT THE CANDLE IN AND HOW ARE WE GOING TO SHOVEL THE SNOW?" she replies, removing a canned ham from a suitcase and throwing it at my head for emphasis.
"Good point," I counter, as I make a mental note to buy a higher bed as soon as we return from our trip.
The next thing I know, I'm bouncing up and down on top of an overstuffed suitcase containing a candelabra, show shovel, and thirty-seven other household items that are apparently imperative to our survival in the Sunshine State. While I want to ask my spouse why we would need a parachute or a polo mallet on our trip, I realize that I could not take another canned meat product to the skull without serious medical repercussions, I hold my tongue.
By daybreak, our packing is done, the children crawl out from their hiding places, and we're on our way to the Happiest Place on Earth.