J has oft pointed out to me that I have a habit of declaring a problem unsolvable, then go on to solve it. That was the case a few Christmases ago. When we were packing to go home after Christmas leave, I managed to cram all the gifts, the luggage, the dog, and who knows whatall, into our smallish SUV. At the outset, I had declared, "It won't fit." I guess guess that sounded like "Please come assist me" because soon everybody was just willy-nilly putting things in the car. Finally, I protested, "I'm the loadmaster. Just leave it and I'll take care of it."
Two things funny came out of this. First, J thought I had invented a new superhero role for myself:
The Load Master. She wasn't aware of the flight crew occupation
loadmaster. But what made it funny was that neither of us explained ourselves to the other, so this confusion went on for several years. Second, I now wear a cape and tights whenever I pack the car.
No, not really.
Why did I tell you all that? I guess because that's what was constantly in my head as I was packing all my
shtuff today. Somehow, what I thought would be too few bags (4) might actually be too many. I got probably 80% of the volume I'll take with me into about 60% of the allotted space. Not sure how that happened. Maybe I'm forgetting something.
As you can see here, the duffel bag (black) and the A bag (solid green) are full, but my bug-out bag is completely empty and I'm also allowed a small carry-on bag (not pictured, but also empty). All I have left to pack are toiletries, 1 change of civvies, laptop and accessories, and some sundries. I guess I'll have room to bring home a Persian rug.
Blue has taken up his customary woeful visage in response to any activity that is, or seems like, packing. He just
knows I'm about to abandon him. Such a sad face.
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