I loathe packing. I hate it with an entirely unreasonable passion. It's just putting clothes and stuff into a bag. Easy. In theory.
I think it's the stuff part that gets me. All the random little things that I'll need while gone, but how to anticipate which little things? Aaron always packs my phone charger. So that at least gets taken. There's no guarantee anything else will make it in the bag. If you know me in real life, you are chuckling at the irony of me always having my phone charger. You know, because I can't live without my phone charged and at my side.
This time I'm going alone. Well, with friends, but without Aaron. Which always brings a weird combination of dread and excitement. Travel, friends, break from work = exciting! Leaving Aaron = dread. He made me a travel pillow, people. Would you want to leave a man like that? Didn't think so.
Instead of packing, I wrote him letters.
I'm bringing four books and only counting two. Bible and journal are givens. Two books is a vast improvement on my usual count. Anyone else out there pack 12 books and forget their underwear? Every time?
An unrelated subject which I have to share with you: Downton Abbey. Have you seen it? Oh my goodness. We may have watched the rest of season 2 online before it aired on PBS. In the McDonalds' parking lot no less, because our internet won't stream video. We just couldn't sleep at night without knowing if Mary and Matthew were finally going to get together. Downton has made me an Anglophile. I am drinking tea out of dainty teacups and wishing I could wear high-waisted skirts and lace-trimmed blouses. I also made scones and crumpets. Heaven help us. Can we just move to Yorkshire and trim 100 years off the calendar?
Maybe I should go put the tea-kettle on straight away. That's another thing. Those Brits are always saying charming things like "straight away." I wager they're great packers too. They seem a very organized lot.
But first, the suitcase.