I am the world's worst packer. I'm a whiz at folding and a genius at stuffing undies in shoes, I'm even slightly more than handy at rolling things so they don't get crumpled. What I'm truly crap at is actually deciding what to take. Girl child and I have come to town for two nights... We're here for a total of 46 hours and I swear on my favourite patent pumps that I have just released no fewer than nine outer garments from my bag. And four pairs of shoes.
In a pathetic attempt at some kind of defence, this IS Melbourne. Yesterday it was 30 degrees Celcius and today is heading for a top of just 17... with rain. And we ARE here to attend a couple of very different functions.
Nope... Not even convincing myself here, am I ? The truth is, I'm a chronic over-packer.
Actually making the decision about what to include in the final cut for any overnight bag/ backpack/ suitcase/ carry-on... to be totally honest, even a goddamn picnic basket ... brings out the hyperventilating banshee in me. It was especially dangerous to be nearby when the kids were little and there were about fifty zillion extra what-ifs to be advance-planned and catered for. Stand too close to me and you could get totally sucked into a veritable vortex of wringing hands and mind-changing.
I love those packing cell thingies. They allow me to neatly locate and organise all the extraneous in-case stuff I bring along. And they make it easier to cram more into a smaller space. Genius.
Every time we go away, I go through the motions of the put-everything-out-and-then-take-away-half routine. Right before I start sneaking it all back in.