Well, I thought I was prepared . . .

I always think I’m prepared. Not because I used to be a Boy Scout (I was in the Brownie’s, though!) but because I’m pretty organized. Some say compulsive. Compulsive, OCD, organized – call it whatever, but who do people come to when they need to know where to find something? That’s right – you know who you are.

This skill/neurosis comes in handy when helping Robert. I’m still perfecting my skills when it comes to him, though, as I have found out whenever I go out of town.

I don’t leave often but there are a few times a year that I am out of town. Last summer, when my daughter turned 21 years old, we went to Las Vegas for a couple of days. Just me and her – it was a blast (although I found myself wishing she was a spring baby instead of born in the middle of the summer – who knew Vegas was so hot??).

Before leaving, I made sure Robert had enough supplies. I didn’t have a back stock of anything but I was only leaving for a few days and, after a quick inventory, he seemed sufficiently stocked.

Apparently not.

One afternoon, while enjoying a cocktail at a couple of promising slot machines (don’t judge – where else are we going to keep cool when it’s 110 outside?), Robert calls.

“Trish. It seems I am out of razors. Tomorrow is Monday. My shower is on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I need more razors before tomorrow.”

Hmmm. This is a pickle since I’m several hundred miles away. I just bought him a pack of 6 disposable razors a week ago so don’t understand why he’s out unless he’s using them only one time. I’ve been using the same disposable razor for my legs for the last six months (I should probably use a new one now that I mention it) so I’m pretty sure he can use his a couple times.

As usual, I feel like it’s such a small request that I hate to deprive him of shaving for a few days. My husband is my only option to resolve this dilemma.

“Ooooh, honey. Could you please, please, please take Robert some razors? Um, sometime today?” Because he is such a kind husband, he does. And he even takes Robert a cheeseburger and fries from McDonalds. Thank you, honey!!

Fast forward a few months and the hubby, kids and I are days away from leaving for The Happiest Place on Earth to celebrate my 50th – I mean, an unspecified milestone birthday (lots of big bdays this year!).

This time, I have made sure Robert is well stocked. He has two of everything and I’ve told him where to find it and, if he forgets, he can call me and I will tell him.

Ring, ring. (That’s a landline for you cell phone only readers).

“Trish. It seems my pen doesn’t work. Can you bring me a new pen today?”

Crap. How did I not think of the pen running out of ink?

Well, Robert, there’s a pen on your table you can use.

“It’s blue.”

Ahh, of course, how silly of me.

I take Robert a few black pens only to find out he needs clicky pens. Dang these pen requirements!

After digging through my purse, I actually find a clicky, black pen (and you thought big purses were unnecessary).

Okay. Now I think he is all set and we can leave without worry. (Other than the usual worry about him bonking his head or getting sick and ending up in the hospital).

On second thought, maybe I should have bought him a few more razors, just in case he wants to shave more than once a day. Oh well, too late now. That’s alright; Robert could look very nice with a bit of facial stubble.