April 25th, 2007

spring

Being Prepared

When I was a kid, in a move that may or may not be psychologically revealing, when I was going over to someone's house for a slumber party, I always packed my bag with getting kidnapped to another planet/dimension/what have you in mind -- just in case.  I included matches, bits of iron for repelling hypothetical fairies, my grandfather's magnifying glass, a small sewing kit, etc. It wasn't so much that I feared it as desperately hoped it, I think, but in case, I was thoroughly prepared.

At least a few decades later, I'm relatively sure that I won't get abducted and need to be able to live off some alien landscape, but I still find myself doing this sort of thing when packing.  I think it's because while I like traveling, I hate the physical side of it: too small airplane seats, periods where the bathroom is not available, crappy food, the noise, the lights, etc. And the fact that I have a really hard time sleeping anywhere but home adds to that discomfort.  So here I am, packing aspirin in case of in-transit headaches, and a damp washcloth in a baggie so I can wash my face free of that film that seems to settle on it during plane trips, and some fruit leather in case one of us gets hungry, and of course, 4 paperbacks, because travel without something to read is INCONCEIVABLE. My plan is to just let my weirdness take its course, and then on Friday go through the amassed pile and remove three-quarters of it.  

You don't even want to know how I'm obsessing about what notebooks to take. I have a huge sketchpad that contains a scad of notes and diagrams for the novel, all done in my teeny-tiny-I-should-have-been-a-comic-book-lettrist printing, and part of me says take it, and part says OMG what if you lose it, and then another part points out that the condo could burn down while we're away and it won't fit in the vegetable crisper drawer (this was traditionally where dissertation manuscripts were stored in my grad-school set, back before computer-reliant days) and then another part says hey, were we going to go get lunch? And then the mental fistfights begin.
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