Cue Elton John.
I am traveling tonight on a plane. I can see the red tail lights heading for Spaaaaaiiiiin, oh and I can my children waving goodbye.
Technically, I do not leave until tomorrow...but it's so early, it might as well be the night before. And obviously, I can't really see the tail lights because I'm inside the plane...and I can't really see my children waving goodbye - but I can if I imagine it!
Hm. Huh. Well.
The Boeing 767 I will be on tomorrow touches down in Madrid early Saturday morning. And while I'm terribly excited to travel overseas, I must first complete what some call "packing". I find there are two schools of thought here:
1. The MicroPacker: This is a word that describes someone who starts the packing process by making a list...a very detailed list (or maybe even multiple lists). Then, with suitcases laying off to the side, they lay everything out in neat little compartmentalized piles and double-check everything off the list before fastidiously putting in into their suitcases.
This resembles my husband.
2. The HastyPacker: You can probably guess where this is going. This person (maybe) gets their luggage out of storage the day before (or even the day of, depending) his/her flight and begins to throw items into it haphazardly. Naturally, many things are forgotten but this person figures they have enough to get through or, worst case scenario, they can pick some things at the duty-free airport.
This does not resemble me. I know, you all must have thought I was leading you there. But no, I probably settle somewhere in the middle. I'm a hybrid. I get good gas mileage. I do make lists of what I'm packing and where it's going, but I do not really start this process until a day or two before I go. For me, it's all about the laundry - I feel I truly cannot begin the packing process until I know ALL my laundry is done. And that includes ALL my underwear, because it's ALL going with me.
Okay, so I'm going to Spain. The Iberian Peninsula...surrounded on nearly all sides by the ocean. Of course I'm taking my swimsuit!! But as I'm sitting there last night, folding my swimsuit, it occurs to me that if I'm taking a suit, I must have a beach towel. And from there, I wonder if I also ought to bring my beach bag? And then I begin to hyperventilate, slightly, because I only get 50 pounds!
Now. I could leave my beach towel at home, with full intent to buy one in Spain. However, suppose I don't come across a store close to the beach that sells them? Or, what if the shops are far enough removed from the beach area that I can't go back to buy one?
You see how this could carry on, yes? My mind will turn over every possible question and become to agitated that finally, I need to grab the nearest bottle of wine and have a glass to calm my nerves.
In fact...that sounds pretty good right now...erm, oh...it's not quite seven in the morning. Boo.