I’m very proud of myself; this time, I only spent two weeks getting ready for a one-week trip to Bermuda with my family. Of course, months ago, another week had gone into selecting destination, accommodations, coordinating with all family, making and remaking plans. I had to arrange to have Cassie cared for way ahead, too. Two weeks ago, it was time to get serious, to get out the suitcase and think about having the plants—yes, the same ones I often forget to water for two weeks—watered while I’m gone for one week.

I put out clothes. I, who live in jeans, suddenly need multiple coordinating outfits. I start gathering toiletries. Oh lord, the dilemma! Do I buy travel size bottles of shampoo or buy empty little plastic bottles and pour my existing shampoo and conditioner into those? Which way might be less expensive? I spend half an hour trying to finda calculator on my phone, one with with big enough numbers for my eyes, and figure it up. (Travel tip: buy little travel size shampoo, etc. at the grocery. You’ll save 42 cents! That and 5.52 will get you a mocha at Starbucks.)

Shoes: always a problem. I spent another half hour on my hands and knees rooting around my closet floor looking for my navy blue flip flops. Flashlight and all. Where had I not considered looking?

On my feet.

The good news? I was able to stand up without calling the life squad.

I was sure I already had some travel packets of nail polish remover. Have I polished my nails? No. But I anticipate: the beloved women in my family will each have beautiful manicures, and I will be overcome with a combination of envy and inferiority. So right before we leave, I will hurriedly do it. Within 36 hours of arrival, my nails will be hopelessly chipped so I will, of course, need polish remover. It’s inevitable. Pick up some polish remover!

See, it’s my knack for anticipating that causes all this. I anticipate that someone might need a bandaid. Pack some. I may need to make lists while there. Pad and pencil. But what if I want a pen? Might get a headache. Bring ibuprofen. Oh! It might get chilly. Is one jacket enough? Might rain. Might rain hard. Might be mosquitos…

What’s the weight limit for the suitcase??

So…we had a wonderful time, in spite of the fact that I am in desperate need of a chiropractor, and that’s just because of my purse. Good thing they didn’t weigh the carry-on tote bag.

(A quick off-topic note of my heart’s gratitude here to those of you who have left generous reviews of Mothers of Fate on sites like Amazon or Book Bub. I’m so grateful–more about this in another post.)

Please, tell me in the comments: how do YOU pack???