Let it be known to all who read this blog: I hate packing.
I despise it above all else in life. I do not like puzzles, riddles or mysteries. And to me, packing is the worst puzzle, riddle and mystery wrapped up into one horrendous chore.
I do not like packing.
So, guess what I've been doing all day! Yup, packing.
I have every intention of taking my duffel bag as a carry-on piece of luggage. Saves me forty dollars!! But, with this goal in mind, I have to abide by the strict rule the airport has laid down.
It has to weigh no more than 40 lbs.
I scoffed when I first heard that. Who on earth needs 40 lbs. of clothes for the week??? Shucks, I can get my bag packed and stay way under the limit! And so I thought, until I realized that I needed to pack enough clothes for 8 days, shoes, rubber rain boots, a nicer coat than my Carhartt, and lets not forget the pajamas. I forgot those the first time I packed the bag.
At first, I really did think that I would be able to do it, and still have room in my bag. But then my sisters and mom came in the room and started pelting me with, "You can't take that!", "You can't wear that!", "You have to take something nicer than that!!"
Confession: I am neither a fashionable person, nor am I a clothes horse. When I go shopping, I can't look at the nice, fashionable clothes that my sisters so dearly love to wear (and they look quite nice in them). No, I look for sturdy, sensible clothes that can withstand goat onslaughts, adventures with barbed wire, dirt stains, blood stains, hay stacking sprees, and other various things such as that. I joke that I wear designer clothes: much of what I have is ripped or stained. My favorite tiered, denim skirt has a 5" square rip at the bottom of it from barbed wire. The navy blue T-shirt I'm wearing right now has bleach stains on the hem, and a tear in the sleeve. My denim blouse had a 3" tear. As I tick my clothes off on my fingers, I sheepishly have to admit that nothing is in good condition. When I want to dress up, I just go get something from my sister's closet, since there's nothing good in mine.
So as I viewed my clothes for the week with satisfaction, my family was looking on in horror. My beloved John Deere shirt that says "Farm Raised" on the front may be a slightly funny shade of yellow, but I love that shirt! I've had it for almost five years, of course I'm going to take it with me on the trip! If I had my way, I would probably clump through the airport wearing my trusty brown linen skirt, yellow John Deere shirt, rose colored Carhartt, and my black rubber boots.
But for some reason my family said I couldn't wear that... I must be behind on fashions these days...
So the afore mentioned mother and sisters took over the decisions of clothing, and I must say that I will look much nicer now! But getting it all in that duffel bag.... Oh good heavens.
After who knows how long, I did finally manage to get everything in, and the zipper closed (for a few moments, I thought for sure it would break!). And then, oh the horror!! I realized that I forgot to put pajamas and socks in there!! Back out came everything, and it took much repositioning before that zipper was closed once again.
But then I picked the bag up.
It's really heavy.
Something tells me it weighs at least 40 lbs. Most likely more. I groan just thinking about going through everything again. And I'm not even going to think about the fact that my pajamas that I need tonight are at the very bottom of the bag; stuffed inside the rain boots.
I hate packing.
And I'm going to look utterly ridiculous as I go through the airport with my rose colored Carhartt (it wouldn't fit in the bag, so I have to wear it), nice clothes, and cherry red duffel bag. Fashionable, I am not.
I will try and continue to post on here daily, until Tuesday, but I won't make any promises. Between trying to get ready to leave, and still going about daily life, I am tuckered out!
Toodle pip and cheerio, my friends. :) I should probably go and try to get my pajamas out of the bag now...