We’re headed out of town for the long weekend. Per usual, last night Eric and I start packing at about 12:30, after we’d made the house presentable for our lovely housesitter, Annie (who mustn’t know how we really live), run four loads of wash, and caught up on office work. Typically, starting this late means that something is forgotten; since I pack my clothes last, that something usually belongs to me. Before yesterday, this was not an issue – I always figured I could replace the missing item when we arrived at our destination. As I was blearily rolling the kids’ umpteenth t-shirt, I remembered the diet, and that replacements were verboten. At which point, my packing became much more mindful. I made a written list of what I needed to bring; I then put a change of clothes for each of us in the carry on, in case our bags go AWOL. Watching me endeavor to cram extra clothing around Berenstain Bears books, crayons, and “An American Wife”, Eric asked what I was doing. I explained. Surely, there are exceptions for this sort of thing, he said. No way, I responded. And so, when we head to the airport today, we will be marginally better organized, and considerably better prepared. Not too shabby, for day 2.
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