His Feet Sweat a lot at the Tables

Huz went on his annual trip to Vegas yesterday.

But before he left he had asked me to help him with his packing  because he “always brings to much.”

I’m still confused as to why he would ask me for help though because he didn’t listen to a dang word I said.

When I am going away for 5 days I usually pack about 6 outfits which consist of 1 dress, 2 bottoms, 3 tops, some type of jacket, a second pair of shoes, maybe a bathing suit and some accessories.

I make do just fine with a well thought out and small lot of items. I look great and don’t need to worry about lugging around any ridiculously heavy or oversized luggage.

I assumed that’s why he turned to me for help.

Again, still confused:

 

Really. He needs 18 pairs of socks.

 

 

 

 

Dude. You moving out?

 

Anyhoo, it was an amusing sight to see him struggling to shove, jam and pound a sizable amount of his wardrobe into a tiny-ass carry on suitcase.

It took him almost 20 minutes to get it all zipped up and when he finally got it secure, Huz was quite proud.

He started beaming at the thought of him not having to pay the luggage fee.

I’m guessing his “carry on” weighed oh… maybe 60 pounds?

He honestly thought he was going to be able to carry it on the plane.

I can’t tell him anything.

Why bother?

It was super funny yesterday when the airline called our house trying to let Huz know that when he picked up his suitcase at the baggage claim terminal he had accidentally took someone elses bag instead of his own.

In turn, the other people with the same luggage had his.

And eighteen pairs of socks.

And 15 football jerseys.

And 30 pairs of pants.

I bet they wondered what was in the luggage that weighed as much as a ten year old child.

I’m also willing to bet that they were mad as hell that they had to lug that thing around to customer service.

 

 

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