Quack and Pack

The Duck Gets Packed Up!

OK, so we are leaving tomorrow. I haven't even begun to pack yet. There are two kinds of packers, those who take everything but the kitchen sink (and some probably even bring that) and those who leave with almost nothing, not even a toothbrush.

So what do I need? Organization would help. A list would help. I find I can think of packing methodically weeks before going anywhere but when the actual moment of packing arrives I can't think. I start to throw things in a bag. I wonder if the clothes fit? Will they still fit when I get there? What if the style is wrong? Overdress? Underdress? What about weather?

I can always blame my mother. I am a product of learned helplessness in packing. My mother did it all when I was grownig up. We lived in a New York Appartment and there was storage in the basement of the building. Before going anywhere my mother would call the super and have the bags sent up. She was of the generation with a complete set of matched luggage. The suitcases nested in each other from very, very large to a small overnight size bag and my mother's cosmetic case, a hard cover square case with a mirror in the lid.

My mother would meet the bags at the door. She greeted them with a can of Raid. My mother appeared to live in mortal dread of BUGS. She sparyed all incoming objects from the bags to the Christmas tree with Raid to make sure no strange bugs entered her appartment.

Then the packing began. Mama began by making a list of what we needed to bring. How many sets of pajamas, how many undies, etc. She assembled everything on the living room couch. Then the packing began in ernest. She had silky lingerie bags for undies, gloves, and hankies. She had a leather jewelry roll for her jewelry. She would layer the bag like a layered pudding cake. First there would be a layer of skirts and/or slacks covered by a layer of tissue paper, then a layer of sweaters, then more tissue paper and so on. You get the picture. Then shoes would be wrapped in tissue and tucked along the sides.

All of this has left me with a packing phobia. I admit it. I hate to pack. I wish I was rich and could just take my wallet with credit cards and a good book, board a plane and buy all new clothes when I get to whereever I am going.

Since that's not possible, I'm off to pack. See you on the other side of the Pond!