Monday, 21 March 2011
The Politics of Packing
I think that as a result of that last fiasco leaving India, when I had to ditch half my luggage during a frantic check-in in Goa (when I was informed that baggage restrictions had changed during the year we were away), I have lost my traveling confidence. My packing muscle has certainly turned flabby at any rate. I have no idea whether I'm bringing a ridiculous amount of things, or stupidly too little. Let's put it this way: I am not on good form at the moment.
Part of the problem is that I couldn't sleep last night, and so instead of doing the sensible thing and lying there until I drifted off, I had the brainwave of getting up at 4:30am and finishing off a novel I'd been reading. This is all well and good until you get to evening of the same day, and find yourself negotiating four lanes of traffic and almost dozing at the wheel (got to keep a watch out for those pesky Sheriff's at the very least).
As we are currently in Daytona Beach and are flying to Panama from Miami Airport, the husband predicts that we have a six hour drive ahead of us. I'm reckoning on five, give or take an extra hour for random puke stops, Starbucks refills and at least one wrong exit. However I have long ago learned that it's not worth fighting over our 'timing discrepancies' the husband and I...No, better to let him have his way and be a tad bit early than race in just at the nick of time and do something stupid like leave your brand spanking new laptop at security. Just saying.
I think my Dad will miss us while we're gone. But then again, maybe not. Maybe he is secretly looking forward to the peace and quiet we shall leave in our wake. To the cessation of 24/7 Cartoon Network on full blast. To the random assortment of crumbs and candies and stains on the carpet.
As for our friends in Panama (who are the sole reason we're going there), we hear they have a nanny. Actually I think they may have two. And a 'Manny' if rumours are to be believed. And, they have two little boys similar ages to Eggie and Dumps. It's a recipe for a brilliant time - or a nightmare depending on who is doing the childcare I suppose.
Hmm...four little boys under one roof. Better go double check those mountains of stuff and make sure that the husband remembered to pack the valium.