I’m going away for the weekend.
Just a short drive up the road and only for two nights. For that length of time, I *should* be able to grab a tiny little bag and throw a few things in, right?
Ha! No. If you’ve read this blog at all, you know I’m a freaky kind of organized packing fool.
I have made a list that so far includes twenty-three things.
Appropriate notepad, don’t you think?
(What? Underoos? Yes, that is what I call the underwear portion of the packing. No, they don’t have animals or pictures of wonder woman on them but how cool would that be? Old lady underoos printed with Maxine cartoons. Make people wonder why I’m laughing in the restroom.)
There are times when I envy the light packers and nonplanners. I sometimes wish I could be a tote-bagger who manages to live out of that tiny bag for a week. But then, in the middle of the night when I want that odd thing that was on my list, that thing I wouldn’t have if I were a tote-bagger, I smile and thank myself for being a strange list making, over packing lunatic.
And, of course, I’m the one the tote-baggers come to if they forget something. I’m like a pop-up convenience store, the Lunatic 7-11.
Back to packing. I wonder if I could get a Slurpee machine in there…..