Someday I will learn how to pack . . . just before a trip, I will take certain items of clothing OUT of the suitcase and put other certain items of clothing IN the suitcase, then once arriving to our destination will realize what was taken OUT was needed and was put IN is not needed.
This is especially true when we fly and have the fifty pound limit. My suitcase weighs fifteen pounds empty ! (I have found some very lightweight, inexpensive cheap luggage and will tell you what it is if you're interested in a later post.)
So, when we arrived home from our SIX-THOUSAND-plus road trip and HansMan announced we would be flying to California the next day and that we would be SHARING a suitcase, my head began to spin in first in one direction and then in the other.
For those of you who have read here long enough probably know the difference in how the two of us operate. ie. I make list after list after list and he flies by the seat of his pants. That is a simplified version of:
I am anal-retentive-obsessive-compulsive. Not to mention being a bit of a control freak...and somewhat of a worrier who stresses-out-quite-often.
He is happy-go-lucky-live-in-the-moment, never anticipating much of anything, and then dealing with whatever happens at the time.
Note to self: STOP IT !
Fast forward to twenty-four hours before the California trip.
I have very neatly folded each piece of my clothing, organized each of those pieces of clothing into 'outfits' complete with accessories and carefully laid them in my half of the suitcase. (In the order I will be needing them.
1. PJ's on top
2. Outfit for second day next
3. PJ's for second night next
4. You get the picture ?
All my toiletries, makeup, hair products...including hair dryer and flat iron, meds, and other essentials are organized into separate zipped travel bags.
Fast forward to THREE hours before heading to the airport . . .
HansMan has showered.
He has decided to go to the office and yells this to me as I am in the shower, and that I will need to finish packing, load the suitcase, drive to the office, pick him up, and then head to the airport.
No problem.
When I emerge from the shower, I notice that the suitcase I spoke of earlier looks as though it has imploded.
Upon closer inspection, I notice many, many, many loose items such as deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush, Advil . . . are sprinkled throughout shorts, sandals, shirts, underwear . . . Some of his items have even made their way onto my neatly organized half of the suitcase.
OK. And so when I say Advil, I don't mean the bottle. I mean actual Advil capsules are sprinkled in and among the crevasses of his clothing. Wrinkled clothing, I might add.
Fast forward to FIVE minutes before departing the house . . .
Kneeling on the lid of the suitcase, it is zipped shut and is carried downstairs kicked downstairs.
Driving to the office, doing a mental checklist of everything that has so carefully been packed (my half), I'm fretting over what I might have forgotten.
Fast forward to several hours after arriving to our destination . . .
Feeling a little twinge of a headache, the search through my zippered bag containing carefully thought out travel items does not reveal a bottle of Advil, Tylenol, or any other type of pill drug that might alleviate the subtle pounding in my left temple.
The conversation goes like this:
Him: What are you looking for ?
Me: Something for my headache.
Him: Is it a migraine ?
Me: No. Not yet.
Him: Do you need an Advil, or something ?
Me: Yes.
He pulls a wrinkled shirt from his half of the suicase. Several Advil capsules fall to the floor. He picks a couple of them up and hands them to me.
Him: Here you go. Someday you'll learn how to pack.
Me: (Insert expletive here !)
