The one on the last night

Last Friday, Tall Guy and I packed up the house, and Tall Guy moved back to Madrid!

Actually, that’s not quite accurate: Tall Guy packed the house. Before Friday. With inventories of everything that is in each box. He’s good. I'm not.

So really, he should have seen this coming… (check out the first minute or so).

A month ago, Tall Guy started asking me questions.

• Tall Guy: “Have you packed?”
• Me: “No, but don't worry worry, I’ll take care of it.”
• Tall Guy: infamous eyebrow raise.
• Me: “I will….”
• Tall Guy, eyebrow still raised: “Ok…”

Ten days ago, a reprise:

• Tall Guy: “Have you packed?”
• Me: “Well, my books are packed… the rest can wait. Don’t worry, it will get done.”
• Tall Guy: infamous eyebrow raise.
• Me: “It will…. Don’t nag me!”
• Tall Guy, eyebrow still raised: “Ok…”

The night before the movers came, on our way out for dinner:

• Me: “Hey, can you grab my coat? It’s in the right side of my closet”

• Tall Guy: “YOU. HAVEN’T. PACKED. Not a SINGLE thing! All of the boxes I made you are empty! ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then he fainted. Not really, but it wouldn’t have surprised me one tiny bit if he had a mild stroke.

• Me: "Um, surprise? You're such a good packer..."
• Tall Guy: Eyebrow raise.
• Me: "I'll do it tonight..."