Trippin'

All my bags are packed,

I'm ready to go.

But before I leave,

I'm sure I'll pack some mo'.

For the record, I am not a high-maintenance woman.

I can get showered, blow-dried, made up and styled in under an hour.  I rarely, if ever, leave my husband waiting at the door when we have somewhere to go.

In fact, I'm usually the one with my hand hanging on the door knob, waiting for him. First to arrive from whatever game he's playing. And then, well, let's just say his mother trained him well to go before he goes -- even if he just went.

The hardest part for me usually is figuring out what to wear.  I have been known to change outfits a dozen times before walking out of my you-would-be-jealous-if-you-saw-it walk-in closet. I do much better in June, July and August, however, because that you-would-be-jealous-if-you-saw-it-walk-in closet is not air-conditioned and could very well double as a walk-in-closet/sauna at times. Sometimes I must hurry, else I have to shower all over again.


But give me a ticket for an airplane or a fast train or a little weekend car trip and make me choose some things to take out of the you-would-be-jealous-if-you-saw-it- walk-in closet to a tiny hotel room far away and I lose it.

I become one of those women. 

The inner me.

I overpack.

Tomorrow morning I leave for a four-day trip to Natchitoches, Louisiana, for the annual Louisiana Sports Writers Convention and Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame Induction ceremony. I am the president of the association and I will be up on a giant stage Saturday night handing out plaques and awards to a very distinguished group of legendary Louisiana sports figures. I have purchased a very nice new dress for the occasion.

But there are other events and other days.

So, tomorrow morning I will leave with (as of this moment) four bags, a garment bag (for the new dress) and a tackle, er, make-up box. I am bringing  six dresses, four pairs of shoes, four bras and seven pairs of underwear. For a four-day trip.

(My husband, incidentally, is driving up another day. In another car. He'll throw some underwear and socks in a bat bag and be done with it. The bastard.)

Yes, I know you are asking why. So am I.

Is it because I have trouble making decisions? Do I have commitment issues? Am I just a little OCD? Or am I just a woman?

Yes. To all of the above.

I can't stand the idea that I might get there, wherever I am, and need/want/have-to-have something I left behind. Even though I know perfectly well that there are Walmarts in virtually every town in this country. Even though I know I have six dresses packed. What if I want the other one?

I say, pack them all.

Just as I said last November, "Let's just drive to Disney World so I can pack whatever I want."  And we did.

Crazy. I know.

But I can't help it. I'm a Girl Scout mom. Always be prepared, I say.

But I'm also the silly woman who decided to leave the packing for her honeymoon until after the wedding. After the, oh, half a dozen glasses of wine and champagne. On an empty stomach.

So, hours after I said "I Do," I went off to my romantic honeymoon in Point Clear, Alabama, with nine pairs of socks and not much else. In December.

New husband must have been happy, you say with a wink and a nudge? Yeah, until he had to take me shopping for a whole new wardrobe. With a hangover.

Better to be prepared, I say.


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