|
| |
|
THE DIFFERENT WAYS
TO PACK FOR A TRIP |
|
I apologize in advance if this column comes off as being a
bit sexist. That's not my intention. Instead, I'm just pointing out that
there's a difference between me and my wife, and she happens to be a woman
and I happen to be a man. Simple as that.
In this instance, it has to do with packing for a trip.
Let me explain the situation. We were leaving for a five
night trip for a winter getaway to our house in Borrego Springs, which is
in the desert about a 2 hour drive from San Diego. We've owned the house
for over 10 years, which seems like enough time to store some clothes.
"Let's head for the airport," I cheerily said the
morning of our departure from Oakland to San Diego. "The plane leaves
at 10:35. We need to be there by 9:45 at the latest."
That's when I noticed the suitcase she had pulled out.
It certainly didn't look like it would fit in an overhead compartment.
"Please tell me you're not checking a bag for a five
night trip to a house where you have a closet full of clothes."
She started filling the suitcase with clothes and shoes she
had laid out on the floor. "Okay, I won't tell you. But I suggest we
leave a little earlier."
I looked at my little bag. It was drooping from a lack of
substance. Only my toiletry bag and a book filled its cavernous carry-on
space. There was not a stitch of clothing in it.
"You can't possibly wear all those clothes in five
days!" I cried, already thinking of how long it might take to get her
baggage in San Diego. "You've got plenty of clothes at the
house."
"You don't understand. I need options. I'm never sure
what I might wear. It all depends on what's going on."
That put me over the edge. "NOTHING'S GOING
ON!" I cried. "WE'RE NOT INVITED TO ANYTHING!"
"That could change," she calmly replied as she
loaded a third pair of shoes into her beginning-to-bulge suitcase. "I
need to be prepared."
I slapped my hand against my forehead, maybe a little too
hard. My plans for a quick and seamless getaway were fading fast. But
convincing her otherwise was out of the question. She had her routine, and
it didn't include me.
I don't know any men who would pack like my wife, but I'm
sure they're out there. And plenty of women would be just like me. It's
just an issue my wife and I have dealt with for years, and it's not likely
to change.
Longer trips where clothes are not waiting for us are no
different. She'll begin packing about 24 hours before departure, while
I'll begin packing about five minutes before departure. That's a
remarkable difference.
Her clothes and shoes will be spread over the bedroom floor,
along with a mixture of bathroom and hair accessories. She'll agonize over
what to bring and not to bring, staring at the pile.
Meanwhile, my routine is a little different. Seven days,
seven pair of underwear, seven pairs of socks, seven shirts, four pair of
pants (including shorts), jacket, bathing suit, hat, sunglasses, book.
BOOM! DONE!
When we get to our destination, one might think I would be
the one who forgot to pack something, considering I packed in 1/100th of
the time it took my wife. One would be wrong.
"OMG, I FORGOT TO PACK A BATHING SUIT!" she will
cry as we unpack in Hawaii. "I'm the worst packer in the world."
I kid you not. That has happened numerous times. She's
so focused on the ensembles that she often forgets the essentials. It's
happened in Hawaii with bathing suits and it's happened in Canada with
jackets.
On the other hand, my system is impeccable. I channel all my
energy into those five defining minutes and seldom, if ever, make a
mistake. Pure focus.
Anyway, we left for our winter getaway to Borrego Springs a
little earlier because she couldn't stuff her wardrobe into a carry-on,
and we got home a little later. She wore some of the clothes and shoes she
brought down, left some there, and brought back some of the clothes and
shoes that were down there.
And I had my empty carry-on bag with my toiletries and book,
both down and back. Well, to be honest, that's not entirely true. She
filled it up with her overflow. |
|
|
