(Sort of) packing

My indecisiveness, along with my constantly sprawling imagination make for the worst combination when packing. I keep imagining very, very specific situations in which I would need one very, very specific type of blouse to even think about surviving. I am the first-world's middle-class embarrassment.

Who cares, right?

"I don't mean, to seem like I care about material things, like a social status/All I need are four walls and adobe slabs..."

Nonetheless, I am still one of the worst packers in the world. Hmm. My friend Maya and I always make fun of/resonate with the girls in the movies that carry lots of things, all at once. You know the ones we're talking about, the girls in the romantic comedies who always seem to be carrying lots of boxes/pastries/books in their hands, and always happen to run headfirst into the leading male character at the perfect time. And all in one instance of box-breaking/book-dropping/pastry-flopping, she wins both the heart of the audience...and the main man. Yeah, what? I wish that were real life. I'd probably be falling in love all the time. Truth is, carrying lots of things just makes you sweat and wish you had more arm strength so you wouldn't have to ask that random dude at the airport if he can help you lift your luggage off the conveyor belt thing in the baggage claim.

I vow to avoid that problem as best as possible, hopefully by packing light. Here is my progress so far: