I was in Northern Michigan with my wife last week. We took a team to help lead a camp up there. In case you've never been to Northern Michigan, you should know they have these large flying beasts that gnaw on your body. They call them mosquitoes, though I'm sure they are left over from some plague God forgot He had sent on the Earth.
We had arrived on Saturday. By Tuesday I had more bites on my body than Track and Field athletes had positive test results. Knowing my wife had come prepared, I asked to borrow the bottle of mosquito repellent. Handing me a bottle, she commented that I could keep that one with me. After all, she had an extra bottle.
"You've had two bottles of mosquito repellent this whole time?" I cried out.
"Yeah," she replied, "we're in Northern Michigan."
Then I proceeded to throw her briefcase, filled with thousands of dollars, into a lake.
Okay, that last part may not have happened. But the rest is true. It reminds me, among other things I learned at camp, to keep communicating with my wife. She packs better than I do.