Tomorrow I travel.
06:55 train to London. Weep with me.
So tonight I’ve been packing. Well, to be a little more accurate, I spent most of the evening avoiding packing, and then finally, finally packed.
Despite the fact that I have to pack a bag and spend a night away from home at least once a month, I still hate packing. Or maybe that’s why?
Because of the frequency with which I am ‘away’, I’ve become quite speedy at the packing-game, but there’s a big difference between packing a bag for a night or two, and packing a suitcase for a week or two. Have I forgotten something major? Have I brought too much stuff? Or not enough? These are the questions that will keep me awake tonight.
And the weird thing is that once I moved to another country and another hemisphere with only one suitcase full of stuff, and I coped. Although I seem to remember procrastinating with the packing that time too – still packing, unpacking and repacking the bag at midnight, while my parents looked on despairingly.
Anyway, the bag is now packed and I think I have remembered everything. Any guesses now what it is that I’ll have forgotten?
In summary: packing.