Packing – my personal hell

So here I go, on my travels again.

If I give you the impression that I enjoy travelling – please do not be deceived. My family & friends on twitter will tell you that the whole process of packing, getting to the airport, flying & getting to my destination accumulate to an extraordinarily prolific stress peak in my merry contentment. I am my own worst enemy in this domain. I have a sharp mind for conceptualising how dynamic & invaluable every item can be. Yes, I see the potential in my favourite ripped pyjamas, old phone – I know you will come in handy, 3 eyebrow pencils to be on the safe side…. At this rate I am going to be the looking like a tramp with fierce scouse brows, a phone I can’t operate & incredibly horrific posture from carrying everything.

I certainly don’t make things easy for myself. I insist on visiting people who I haven’t seen in a long time, catching up on gifts I haven’t given & gifting people whose birthdays I will be missing. Everything I haven’t had time to do gets wedged into this last week before I leave. Understandably my suitcase, which has been treated ashamadly badly, is bidding for it’s desired exit plan. Combustion. I know with all my heart that the day I go to collect my beloved suitcase to find my belongings have exploded without my close thsupervision is ebbing closer. It will be like a massacre of my livelihood. I am expecting this to occur when I return from a trip where i have went wild shopping at some sort of sex convention….. I take comfort that God’s humiliations upon me are becoming somewhat predictable.

So here I go. Completely exhausted, anxious & living in fear about travelling. Not exactly my chosen path to my new life in Verbier. I take comfort these feelings will disperse on the other side to make way for my excitement, thankfulness at how lucky I am & total & complete overwhelming joy. I know I will never change. This has been my pre trip routine since I was 16. Who would change me though? I love the thrill of getting away & the love of all the people I visit just before I go. I will never change & when I’m very old with my wrinkles & dismembered posture I will smile at my adventures & plan my next one.

In conclusion, 6 months worth of belongs do not fit in to 30kg. It can’t be done.


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