THE INNER WORKINGS...

packing.

This post is dedicated to anyone and everyone who has ever helped me to pack. And because I have a rule that I don't prepare my bags until about nine minutes before I have to leave for the airport, which in turn causes me to enlist the help of anyone within shouting distance (which, I'd like to point out, also includes passers-by on the street, because as we know, my background in musical theater taught me to project with my diaphragm and therefore shout loudly), chances are you have helped me pack. And because my habit of waiting until the very last minute to throw all necessary elements for survival into a backpack (or a suitcase if we're going on a really long trip) can throw me into an uncharacteristically dramatic tizzy, I feel that the least I can do is dedicate a less-than-coherent blog post to you, my co-packers.

I started thinking about packing today because Iri (my adopted sister and roommate) is heading off to Amsterdam tomorrow. And today I sat and provided moral support (i.e. helped her debate what jacket to wear, and made sure that she had packed a sufficient supply of unmentionables) as she crammed a few weeks of supplies (including the staple of any trip to the Netherlands: a two week ration of Ramen) into an impossibly small backpack. She's my kind of packer: if you're not going to use it at least three times, leave it behind. (Thus, the ramen made it. But the second pair of shoes got cut. Let's be practical, people.)


Usually the situation is flipped. I'm the one packing, and Iri - who an hour before any of my trips becomes my lackey (God bless her, really) - is running around folding clothes and buying the last-minute essentials (a.k.a. bottles of Coca Light for the trip to the airport). And today as I sat in her room watching her calmly move the piles from the bed to the itty-bitty-backpack-that-could, I felt serene, calm... tranquila, if you will. A far cry from the frenetic, frenzied, fraught moments that I have imposed on otherwise innocent bystanders. (But, in my defense, you were within shouting distance.)

And so friends and co-packers, I just wanted to take a minute and recognize the trauma that I have put you through. And for your patience, your quick response to my drill-sergeant-like commands, and your adeptness at rolling jeans into tiny-packable-balls, I thank you.

Oh, and if you don't have anything to do on March 5th, come by my place, because I'm sure I'll need a few pairs of hands to help me pack for my birthday week trip. Anyone want to volunteer for the Diet Coke run?

posted by Courtney @ 7:38 PM