I like to travel light. I don’t carry a wallet in my pocket, I don’t like to carry keys, I even take off my wristwatch whenever I can. And when I go to bed, I remove my wedding ring. So you can call me a minimum-luggage freak.

Just the other day, Cris and I were about to check out of the hotel we were in. We were not going home yet, only to the next city where we had meetings to attend. As I was closing my suitcase, I noticed it was fuller than when we checked in. A second look revealed why: My dear wife had moved some items from her now-also-fuller suitcase into mine (how she manages to come home with more stuff than when we left is beyond me.)

I hate bulging suitcases as much as I love my wife. So I took a deep breath, closed the suitcase, and then made a comment to her as we were leaving the room: “I noticed some of your stuff in my suitcase.” She said, “Oh yes, there was lots of room in it, and mine is already full.” That’s where I should have kept quiet. End of the story. After all, it made sense. Hers was full, mine had room to spare — I would have done the same.

But I had to open my mouth and say one more thing.

(Continues on the next post; click here to read the rest of the story now)


Read this message in Portuguese