I should really be packing right now. But I’m not, because I hate packing. I always end up needing the one thing that’s at the very bottom of the tub in the very back of the pile. Or I end up wanting to wear something that’s at the bottom of the suitcase. Four years of college and four years of packing have pretty much proven this empirically. I’ve got to get a move on, though; I leave Tuesday.
I can’t ever find anything when I’m packing, though over the years I’ve learned to just designate a specific spot for shoes, another for books, another for lost earrings and so on ’til everything’s in a place. That way I can at least have a decent idea where to look when I’m hunting for a specific pair of shoes to wear. My milieu is actually chaos, and, packing rather counter-intuitively organizes things.
Plus, I really hate taking my decorations down; my room doesn’t feel like my room anymore. I like having my posters and prints and rosaries everywhere (I collect rosaries and have a rather impressive collection).
Plus PLUS, my dad wants to turn my room into a Man Cave. How lame is that?