Sunday, December 19, 2010
I've spent the entire day today wearing a knee-sock on one foot with no shoe and a flip-flop (no sock) on the other. I'm also sporting cut-off yoga pants, a mismatched Disney t-shirt, and a big floppy robe. Sometimes there was also a skirt involved - but don't ask me how.
So, obviously, I've been packing.
Here's the thing: I hate packing.
So that's the thing.
In related news, John and I are going on a cruise with our families tomorrow. We'll be gone five days. Our sanity, however, caught an early flight out sometime yesterday afternoon.
We have relations flying in from California, Texas, and Maine, plus my parents drove down from Virginia, and John had to organize pretty much all of it: the hotels, the flights, the how-much-luggage-can-fit-in-YOUR-trunk?, and, of course, the cruise itself. Afterward we're hosting Christmas morning here at our place, so there's also been that to plan/freak out over.
Now, because our trunk space driving back from the port is limited, John asked everyone to please try to pack light.
My mother - always one to take instructions seriously - showed up with one pair of pants. One. (Thankfully, she was wearing them.) In fact, the sum total of her luggage could have been contained in some of my larger purses.
Upon learning this yesterday, I gently explained to my mom that we were going on a cruise, not a 2-day stint in a war-zone foxhole, and that she would not, in fact, be required to carry all of her luggage on her person at all times. So off to Ross we went, where, after much cajoling, I was able to convince her to purchase a black skirt and a black pair of jeans.
Now, I know what you're thinking: they still make black jeans? Yes, my friends, they do. But more importantly, I clearly did not get my mom's sparse-packing jeans. I mean genes. I just need things when I leave home: shoes and hair creams and - for the love of sweet mercy - my tweezers.
Still, I did my best, and I think I've managed to condense my bare necessities down to a manageable amount.
Anyway, stay tuned for what I'm sure will be absolutely hysterical reports on our family vacation. And maybe some coded pleas for help. (If I start referring to myself as Inigo Montoya, call the Brute Squad, stat.)
UPDATE: Yes, I have my passport. More importantly: it's no longer expired. Less importantly: I'm never going to live that down, am I? ;)
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