As I sit here eating the tiniest apple in the world (thank you Super IGA pre-packed dodgy produce) I am aware that I’m in avoidance mode. I’m thinking of cleaning the shower with a toothbrush in a minute.
I know that I have to pack five bags for our holiday road trip, and I use the word ‘holiday’ loosely. It is the worst kind of packing, too. Not an off-to-the-beach-with-a-pair-of-togs-and-towel pack, but rather an oh-my-gosh-there’s-going-to-be-snow-and-I-need-every-known-clothing-item-known-to-man pack.
And the truth is, I’m a lousy packer. I could arguably be called a ‘just in case’ packer. Every family has one, it just happens that I am the packer-in-chief. At least I’m confident that every family member has, at worst, twice the number of underpants that they are actually going to need.
Thankfully, once I have compressed the squillion items into the tiny suitcases, it becomes my husband’s problem fitting them into the car. (At this point I feel free to throw extra things in the pile, whether there’s room or not – just the kind of wife I am). He sees it as a personal challenge getting it all in; symmetrical, perfect, and squared.
Our family does a touring drive every year in honour of our vehicle’s lease agreement. In some random dimension, it apparently costs us less to run it if we put more k’s on the clock. I’m no engineer, but it all sounds a bit dicey. My application to relate the same principle to buying shoes was sadly rejected.
I wonder why humans create so much extra work in the name of a ‘relaxation’? We invent artificial activities and then have to employ a myriad of other manufactured technologies in order for us to be able to carry them out. Hmm. Not very advanced at all, really, just complicated.
It usually takes me a week to prepare for the break, and then the same to unpack and re-order when we get home. Even camping trips (you remember those simple getaways?) have become colossal tasks in need of a project design team. For a free spirit kind of girl, I find none of this appealing! I have suggested the we just buy new clothes when we get there….another rejected application, of course. (Clearly I need to change roles; chief packer to application approver…oh, yeah!)
Oh well, at least the kids’ carsickness seems to have settled down and the youngest is not so obsessed with that Elmo CD anymore. Let’s just hope the snacks and Nintendos get us through the 2838 km round trip with our sanity intact.
The snow had better be kickin’ butt this season.
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