I really don't like packing. Actually, I hate packing. In our house it is referred to as "the 'P' word."
My aversion to boxes and suitcases has been with me for years. Every summer, when my parents came to move me out of my college dorm room, they arrived to find my room fully in tact: not one poster off of the wall, every item of clothing hanging in the closet, books neatly stacked on their shelves. My father (who is the son of a moving man) could hardly believe his eyes!
Close friends know one of the secrets of my happy marriage: David does the packing.
Sometimes I put the things that I wish to take with me out on the bed, and let David takes care of the rest. Sometimes I sit on the bed and tell him what I want in my suitcase.
A few times he has packed FOR me completely, with almost no consultation whatsoever.
But when we became missionaries and travel became more of a regular activity, I decided it was time to put on my big girls pants and get with the packing program.
Still, I procrastinate. I am often zipping my suitcase at the very last minute, stuffing in one last book on the way. Speaking of books, my packing priorities are somewhat skewed: Books and shoes monopolize a disproportionate portion of any bag I pack. Who needs underwear or deodorant when you have a good novel and a pair of chic boots?
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to sort out in advance what things I am going to need. How do I know if my skin is going to dry out and need lotion? How can I predict whether I will be in the mood for jeans or a dress? Should I just throw in all my earrings, or try to decide in advance which ones I am going to want to wear? I get overwhelmed by the details, and end up forgetting the essentials. Many a gracious host have given me a toothbrush, loaned me a hairdryer, or shared their slippers with me.
And then there is the dilemma of running clothes. If I take them, I never seem to use them. If I leave them behind, I find a thousand opportunities to use them. AAAGgGGGGHHhhhghg! Its too much pressure!
Inevitably, though I really do try to keep it together, the act of packing puts me in a really bad mood. A sad commentary for a girl who loves to travel.
I find deep breathing and dark chocolate help to ease the sting. Since we leave tomorrow for a whirlwind trip to the States, I suppose its time to grit my teeth, grab some Milka bars, and face the dragon of packing. See you on the other side!
My aversion to boxes and suitcases has been with me for years. Every summer, when my parents came to move me out of my college dorm room, they arrived to find my room fully in tact: not one poster off of the wall, every item of clothing hanging in the closet, books neatly stacked on their shelves. My father (who is the son of a moving man) could hardly believe his eyes!
Close friends know one of the secrets of my happy marriage: David does the packing.
Sometimes I put the things that I wish to take with me out on the bed, and let David takes care of the rest. Sometimes I sit on the bed and tell him what I want in my suitcase.
A few times he has packed FOR me completely, with almost no consultation whatsoever.
But when we became missionaries and travel became more of a regular activity, I decided it was time to put on my big girls pants and get with the packing program.
Still, I procrastinate. I am often zipping my suitcase at the very last minute, stuffing in one last book on the way. Speaking of books, my packing priorities are somewhat skewed: Books and shoes monopolize a disproportionate portion of any bag I pack. Who needs underwear or deodorant when you have a good novel and a pair of chic boots?
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to sort out in advance what things I am going to need. How do I know if my skin is going to dry out and need lotion? How can I predict whether I will be in the mood for jeans or a dress? Should I just throw in all my earrings, or try to decide in advance which ones I am going to want to wear? I get overwhelmed by the details, and end up forgetting the essentials. Many a gracious host have given me a toothbrush, loaned me a hairdryer, or shared their slippers with me.
And then there is the dilemma of running clothes. If I take them, I never seem to use them. If I leave them behind, I find a thousand opportunities to use them. AAAGgGGGGHHhhhghg! Its too much pressure!
Inevitably, though I really do try to keep it together, the act of packing puts me in a really bad mood. A sad commentary for a girl who loves to travel.
I find deep breathing and dark chocolate help to ease the sting. Since we leave tomorrow for a whirlwind trip to the States, I suppose its time to grit my teeth, grab some Milka bars, and face the dragon of packing. See you on the other side!
yea yea yea!!! cannot wait- counting the days!
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