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 section for comments below (I read and respond to every one): How do YOU pack???
Haaaa! And coming from the very individual who recommended I pack two pairs of black pants and a few tops for weeks of tour!
This was hilarious . I bet once you were there, none of this mattered – or, was used!
Well, for sure. At the time, I was working on an entirely different guide than the one I go by, clearly. That was Smart Packing: A User’s Guide for Other People.
Love it! I always take more shoes than clothes it seems. I always have enough clothes and shoes to stay a month at least on a one week vacation.
Hoping you had a great time with family wearing the same outfit every day.
I love these blog posts! Ever-entertaining!!
I’m so glad! Thank you for subscribing and reading them!
So what arrangements did you make to keep your poor plants alive? You’ve reminded me of a visit I paid to a friend’s house in our Connecticut home town. I noted a little potted plant ‘neath a living room window, and someone in the family had stuck a little note on a stick in the pot: “Remember every week — you need a little sex, I need a little water.”
Ah, leave it to you to care about the plants. The truth is they looked a lot happier when I returned because the lovely woman who said she’d care for them (both indoor and outdoor plants and flowers–including large blue hydrangeas and gorgeous bright-blooming hibiscus trees in pots on deck–came not once but three times. The plants were all hoping, I’m sure, that I never came back because she took much better care of them than I do, and they never once had to beg for water. I’m much more responsible about it now, because she shamed me!
My worst packing experience was for a tour in Europe. We were using a tour company that strongly suggested only bringing one suitcase. How to pack for two weeks in one suitcase? I packed and unpacked for days before we left and finally was able to get my suitcase closed. It worked out good enough that I was able to go on a 4 week tour a couple of years later with just one suitcase. I’ve lost my packing talent – a few weeks ago I needed one suitcase and a large duffle to go to the beach for 4 days!
Four weeks in one suitcase? Your are my hero! I could only manage that if the “suitcase” was a large steamer trunk. Anything less would require a prescription for heavy psychotropic drugs for me and someone else to do it. Someone sane enough to say “she can live without that for a week,” like my daughter, for example. This would work if I’m unconscious at the time…
Thanks for your comment!!
Oh, I can definitely relate! The stress we go through to de-stress!
How do I pack? Well, I make lists then go back and add things I might need. My husband is just the opposite. He packs, then decides what to take out so he can go “light”. Thank goodness, because then I give him all the stuff that won’t fit into my suitcase!
Most importantly, Lynne, it looks like you had a great time and enjoyed some quality R&R. The photos are absolutely stunning!
Oh, thank you so much for adding an essential component of Idiot Packing–it’s the one that requires you to have a a travel companion who doesn’t grasp certain essential truths like the absolutely necessity of having, like tweezers (might find a tick on me!), alcohol (wound treatment and drinking purposes if I feel faint after failing to fully remove tick), antibiotic ointment for headwound obtained when crashing to ceramic floor after fainting from looking at moving legs of said unremoved tick. Backup medical book. A quart of DEET. MY husband simply would not grasp the importance of packing these himself…so I find it’s best not to mention these extras that I’m bagging in opaque plastic before bringing to his attention how helpful it would be if he wouldn’t mind adding the bag to his his plenty-of-extra-space suitcase. Thank you again, Cindy, for bringing up this quite brilliant technique!!
I laughed myself silly as I read all of this! All of it’s true, every little bit. Sitting on the lanai, sipping a nice glass of wine, and contemplating a wonderful trip to an exotic place seems like such a good idea. Actually pulling it off (and paying for it) is another thing. I’ll be sure to think of you this evening while I sit on the lanai, sipping a nice glass of wine, contemplating a wonderful trip.
You are so right. It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? I mean, being there WAS wonderful. The getting ready? Not so much. And have I finished unpacking? Not so much. I look in the spare bedroom where I’ve managed to empty the suitcase and the tote bag, and, to be honest, I mutter something that sounds suspiciously like “WTF…Where did I even find all this crap? Where does it go now? Maybe I can donate it?? But what lunatic would want it? Oh, I know. I’ll put it all in a bag and store it so I can pack it all when I go on the next trip!”