I strongly believe packing/moving is the worst invention in the world. The notion even trumps algebra and stubbing a toe. I am unfit for packing. I have no sense of climate change, pack too many socks and not enough boxers, and always leave my favorite shirt behind. To make the situation even more confusing, this time I am packing two suitcases going two very separate directions.
Suitcase one, my biggest piece of luggage, is U.S.A. bound. Rather than lugging around my box on wheels throughout my travels, I decided to send it home. As an added bonus, it is cheaper to send the suitcase home instead of paying for all of those checked baggage fees.
Suitcase one is being shipped via the Australia Post’s sea mail. Sea mail is hilarious and great. I’m pretty sure beloved suitcase will be traveling on a Titanic sized ship, and will go to the bow, and will sing “My heart will go on” in a near perfect bravado. Soon I will drop suitcase one at the post office, and in 2-3 months, hopefully see it on my front doorstep.
Suitcase two is more of a duffle bag. The duffle bag will be accompanying me to Queensland and so on. While the bag is going to be filled predominantly with shorts and t-shirts, that does not make the job any easier. At the time, I always believe that I am packing my best clothes. Upon arrival, I look in my bag to find nothing but ill-fitting pants and horrendous shirts that could double as a picnic tablecloth.
Once upon a time I was good at packing. When my sole responsibility was to pack my toy dinosaurs and fireworks, it was fun. There is a slight sense of lingering excitement as I clear out my room today. I know I will forget my lucky boxers, but I will only find out on the next part of my adventure.