My Pinterest board reveals a secret about me. There are two pins about food, six about writing and 125 about packing light. I clearly spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking, researching and fantasizing about what to pack for a trip. I’ve downloaded e-books, read hundreds of blogs and watched videos. I attended a five hour seminar devoted to packing the perfect light weight carry-on. This would have been helpful were it not for one small issue: I’m not actually going anywhere.
This behavior manifested a few years ago, after I had packed in a hurry, for a family emergency. When I arrived at my destination, I had brought things that didn’t fit right, were not appropriate for the situation and didn’t match. I decided that when I returned home I would have some emergency clothes ready at all times. That decision has led to a fixation.
My closet has an area where my “travel clothes” reside. Clothes must earn their way into this exclusive section. Upgrades are based on: how well they wash, whether or not they wrinkle and how much they weigh. Yes, it’s true, I know the weight of each individual item. Blouses get bumped out of travel class if I find one that weighs four ounces less than my current choice, for slacks the bump policy is 8.7 ounces.
I am always on the hunt for the perfect pair of travel shoes. Judging is based on three criteria: they must coordinate with all my pants, have excellent arch support and qualify me to make the best dressed traveler list. There are currently seven pair in my closet that have been purchased, then bounced into to regular usage, due to poor performance ratings in any of the categories. There will be no need to pack this elusive perfect pair, I will just wear them on my imaginary trip.
Finding the perfect luggage, in which to carry those clothes has been subject to heavy mental debate. I’ve spent hours comparing back packs, wheeled luggage and “smart” bags that follow their owner, like a well-trained dog. I’ve read reviews and studied charts. My tests consist of running through the store lobby, passport in hand, constantly checking my watch, while trying to read each aisle number as I go by.
Eventually I found a backpack with wheels, and it weighs just 5.5 pounds. The only thing this beauty won’t do is allow me to ride it through the terminal.
I will probably never have to travel around the world, at a moment’s notice, with a back-pack as my only luggage. But if the occasion arises, I am ready to go!