I had one job. One job only. And I failed. Well, sorta. The task at hand—pack my teenaged daughter’s suitcase so my husband could whisk her away for a surprise Daddy-Daughter weekend. He had cashed in points, of course, to fly them to Los Angeles and catch their favorite British Boy Band concert. Yes, my husband has a favorite British Boy Band. Just one of his many quirks which include obsessively collecting frequent flyer miles, getting goose bumps from spread