I hate packing.
End of story. Hate it. It stresses me out, I think endlessly
about what to pack and what not to pack, and I always forget something. Lately that something has been a
hairbrush, so I must pay the price for my forgetfulness by having to use my
Dad’s tiny travel bush that takes about twenty minutes to work through my long
thick hair. A few years ago we
went to California and I forgot to bring shoes. I know what you’re thinking, “Shoes? Really, Emma? You forgot shoes?” But believe it or not, it
happened. The next fiasco was the
AP review books. My family went to
Arizona for Spring Break, and I had to study for my AP American test. But here is the catch: I forgot to
bring my AP review books to study from. Honestly, how does that happen? I had
them all laid out and everything, I just forgot them.
So packing always freaks me out. In addition to forgetting some things, I bring far too many
others. Every time I am going
away, I try to bring enough options to suit any mood that I might be in. And I always want choices. This is a habit that I inherited from
my mother. The two of us are
classic over-packers. I once went
to camp for seven weeks, where I would be able to do my laundry once a week,
and I brought thirty shirts. Some
of you may read this and think that I am absolutely insane, and maybe I am, but
I just get carried away. I start
going through my drawers and think to myself, “well, maybe I will want to wear
that,” or, “how can I not bring this shirt?” or, “there is no way that I can go
out of town without these jeans.”
It gets a bit out of hand, and before I know it my bag is overweight,
which, these days, ends up costing you your college savings.
My mom is the exact same way. She comes downstairs with a suitcase that takes a small army
to close, and when we ask her why she needs so much stuff she says, “What? It’s
all work out stuff!” Yeah…ok. My dad is a pretty light packer, but
his travel nerves kick in at the airport.
He has a constant fear of missing a plane, so when we step out of the
cab he hits the ground running. We call it airport speed. I swear, his legs
move at the speed of light. We
usually have to jog to keep up with him, and many times he gets so far ahead
that we lose him and take turns picking up our phones and giving him angry
calls, telling him to SLOW DOWN. I think Jake is the only one unaffected by
travel. He just plugs into his
iPod and comes out of his techni-coma when we arrive.
Anyways, I am going away for three weeks and I left this
morning. And as I sat on my bag,
beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, trying desperately to close my
suitcase, I realized I had to take something out. The clothes hangers.
As I started to panic, I realized that I didn’t have to leave them
behind I threw them in a tote bag and we were off to the airport.
-Emma
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