"just in case," she says as she attempts to load a bicycle built for two into your trunk. she removes the chinese gardening hat from her matted locks. "you never know when..." she offers a coy smile as she stuffs her winter coat (the puffy kind..you know, michelin man-esque) into the back seat. without fail you start craving s'mores. curse that white coat. "weirder things have happened..." she says while glancing at the almanac and untying her sorel boots. it's summer. you're pitting out in your baseball tee, wondering:
1) if you remembered to wear deodorant
2) how this girl can be serious
this is the curse of the overpacker. "she" is me. i don't think you would assume such by giving me the once-over. the claim "i don't have a lot of things, it's just that the things i do have are bulky" seems to be wearing thin with use. the best part (or the worst, depending on your perspective) is that i usually end up wearing the same socks the whole trip and conveniently neglecting the massive amount of trinkets i've brought along.
this weekend i'm going home. 3 days. i will say no, even if i have to say it aloud. i will bring one bag (not incuding the guitar). i will break the curse.
1 comment:
Ha! I'm an over-packer too! Hope you had a nice visit home.
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