“I have a challenge for you,” I offered my husband, Francis, this week while planning our annual family vacation to North Carolina. Then I threw down an unprecedented gauntlet: “Let’s limit our packing to one carry-on bag each.”

Silence.

Then, Francis stuttered defensively, “Well, sure, but I, you, I don’t—”

“Now honey, remember you’re a bit of a clothes horse,” I said as delicately as possible.

“So, for example, just pack two quarter zips instead of six—”

“You worry about packing YOUR bag, and I’ll worry about MINE,” he sternly interrupted.

Although we are empty nesters, our young adult children will be flying from their respective areas to meet us at the rental house in North Carolina, in addition to my mother and our daughter’s very tall boyfriend. The complicated logistics asks a lot of our mid-sized SUV, which will need to carry five people and their luggage to the airport on the final day.

Years ago, when Francis was active duty Navy, he packed efficiently for TDYs, deployments and other trips. But when he retired after 28 years in the service to take a corporate job, his eyes opened to a whole new wardrobe.

Gone were the days of wearing the same uniforms every day. Suddenly, the empty spaces on his side of the closet had potential. His eyes sparkled when clothing catalogs arrived in the mail. He disappeared on Saturday afternoons, sneaking home with shopping bags containing new suits, fancy brand-emblazoned shirts and leisure wear.

With his uniforms tucked away in a wardrobe in our attic, my military retired husband developed a particular penchant for comfortable shoes, specifically Skechers. When a Skechers store opened at a nearby strip mall, Francis visited regularly, coming home with two boxes at a time. “They were having a BOGO sale,” he’d say if I gave him an accusing look.

Francis also took a liking to quarter-zip pullovers made of various materials (wool for winter, cotton for summer, quick-dry synthetic blends for warmer weather) and embroidered with fancy brand insignia (ribbon-tied pigs, sailboats, skipjack fish, polo horses, whales, etc.)

Packages began arriving in the mail regularly. If I happened to find them before Francis intercepted, he’d say sheepishly, “They were having a sale.” Before I knew it, Francis had not only filled his side of our closet, he’d taken over the closet in our son’s old room, too. I often see him gazing lovingly at his new wardrobe and at his own reflection when donning his curated outfits, proud of his new sense of style.

The trips we’ve taken in recent years are very different from those we took during Francis’ Navy years. Like many traditional married couples, I used the larger suitcase for my clothing, shoes, jewelry and toiletries, and he happily took the smaller one for his simple yet manly belongings.

But nowadays, Francis needs the big suitcase. Alternatively, he packs his overflow items in my bag. Once, checking in for a flight to Florida, my bag came in overweight on the airline’s scale. While we opened it to remove a few items, Francis put on a big show for the male counter agent, rolling his eyes and tsk-ing as if to say, “Women always overpack, right?!”

Little did the agent know, my bag contained Francis’ dress shoes, a full suit and shirt on a wooden hanger, a belt, two bathing suits, flip flops, a package of flushable wipes and his CPAP machine.

Although the cost of Francis’ new clothing acquisitions sometimes worries me (I’ve always been a thrift and clearance shopper), I can’t protest too much, because I have my own overpacking tendencies.

In fact, even if Francis and I manage to successfully pack our clothing into two carry-on bags, I’ll still need trunk room for items I deem absolutely essential for our family vacation — coolers, can sleeves, Bananagrams, Scrabble, Monopoly, Boggle, poker chips, cards, crafting supplies, jigsaw puzzles, beach towels, sunscreen, paddle ball, bocce ball, snorkel sets, flippers, beach chairs and a vast array of snacks, drinks and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff I haven’t even thought of yet.

I don’t consider this to be overpacking, as long as we leave our worries behind.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com