So, I've realized that I'm really bad at packing. Not in a "I can't fold things neatly so they take up a minimum amount of space" way, and not in a "I bring wildly useless things but forget socks and toothpaste" way, but in a panicky, guilt stricken, worried way. For example, the morning went something like this.
Panicked Bit of Caroline's Mind: Should I bring these pants?
Rational Bit of Caroline's Mind: Yes.
PBoCM: But they take up space! I'm worried about how much I'm bringing.
RBoCM: Caroline, they're your favorite pants.
PBoCM: True. They are. But are they versatile? Comfortable? Useful?
RBoCM: Yes, yes, and yes? Caroline, you like those pants a lot.
PBoCM: Ok, then. (Pause.) But should I really bring them?
RBoCM: Ok, let's take a break and fiddle around with our Greek travel guide for a bit. Look, pretty islands.
PBoCM: I'm so looking forward to fall break.
George does not help matters. George does not like packing, suitcases, or people not paying attention to him. He lurks around a lot and occasionally bites people (me).
On the bright side, I'm leaving a week from tomorrow!
1 comment:
I love those debates different bits of one's mind have. You wouldn't believe how often it happens in the jungle.
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