Yes, I am that old.
Sitting in the kitchen tonight, I'm eating cheese and crackers like it's the last meal I'll ever have when B-man says, 'do you have an umbrella?'
B-man: 'Is your umbrella in the car?'
Me: 'I thought you had them.' (We agreed to take two after an umbrella sharing fiasco the last time we visited The Emerald City.)
B-man: 'No, you always have an umbrella in your car - do you want me to go get it?'
Me: 'Sure, whatever.'
He goes out to the car and comes back in.
B-man: 'Look, it's not my job to get the umbrellas.'
Me: 'I don't expect you to get the umbrellas.'
B-man: 'I don't want to take care of all that.'
B-man: 'You have a list.'
Me: 'Great, you take care of yourself.'
B-man hates that I don't follow the list when I'm packing - then I end up needing his sweatshirt or using his deodorant...or wearing his Gris Clair.
Of course, a pre-trip hissy fit is expected. But now, the umbrella storm has passed and we're on Big Red, drinking wine and having a happy snack. All is well.
Image from clotheslineblog.com