The Nightmare of Packing

Hey, I know trucking's a tough job but of all the hard parts about it, the part I don't think I could handle would be the constant packing for each trip back out on the road. Home two weeks, gotta wash, dry clothes and then re-pack again in probably about 48 hours time? I don't think my heart could take it. Packing myself to go away from my own home for a few days is enough to throw me into heart palpitations. Which is not good considering I've already racked up a crap shoulder (sprained rotator cuff) and a bum foot (torn joint capsule or something). If I had to add my heart to the mix, you might as well just put me down. Stuff's just gonna start falling off of me pretty soon. Damn shame too; I'm not even 40 years old. Should've gotten the extended warranty.

So we decided to take a very, very, very (did I say very?) last minute spring break trip to Florida this week. This is extremely unusual for me because of the magazine deadline that always falls right around spring break. And as much as I petitioned the Fulton County School Board to change spring break week to something other than the busiest week of the magazine month for me, they staunchly refuse. And, yes, in case any of them are reading this, maybe the world does revolve around me.

This year, instead of singing the same "Sorry, we can't travel" tune to my son who lists for us every single friend of his who does get to do cool spring break stuff, we're going to bite the bullet and head to Florida for some luxurious vacation time mooching off relatives. But before we hit the highway, I have to endure the stress and hated task of packing. At least the task of packing my son has now been passed to him. He's old enough that I just make him a detailed list and send him off on his pre-pubescent way to pick his own stuff.

On his list included items for entertainment in the car such as movies for the DVD player, his cell phone and his Ipod. His iPod was last seen in the company of his best friend Mary Kate who was playing with it as we schlepped Chase to the dentist this morning, because what spring break is complete without some metal objects scraping your teeth and a set of bargain basement priced (snort--hardly!) xrays? Tonight, Chase comes across "iPod and headphones" on his list and proceeds to race around the house looking for it.

Can't find it, can't find it. Looking upstairs, downstairs. I finally said: "Maybe it's still in my car."
He said: "No, it can't be."
I said: "Why can't it be? MK was playing with it in my car today."
He insists vehemently: "No, someone took it out of there."
I said: "Someone?"
He said: "I think it might've been me."

I don't know why but I think that is so funny. "I think it might be me." He looked genuinely confused about it too. So he looks some more, looks some more and finally bites the bullet and goes outside to look in my car. In he comes again and announces: You were right.

Mmmm, thought so.

Well, I've procrastinated long enough. From my computer in my office, I can hear the suitcase from all the way upstairs, sounding like Vincent Price in the Thriller video, laughing at me like the horror that it is.