Ready Made

I'm slightly distrubed by the ease with which I was able to pack for this next trip. A five day trip used to spur packing lists. Bedroom fashion shows. The ever-important selection of CDs. And laundry. Glorious laundry!

These days, I'm mostly packed even before the trip begins. Switching toiletries from my gym bag to my suit case, I recite a short prayer to the traveling gods that the shampoo and conditioner at the hotel isn't a single, "conditioning shampoo." But if it is, I'm prepared. I pack my trusty brown claw-clip and wide-tooth comb. I now know what all of my clothes look like on my body, so the hallway/runway remains quiet. I select the suits and blouses that don't require ironing, plus 2 bras, 2 sports bras, a handful of socks, 10 pairs of underwear, 4 t-shirts and running shorts. Wilson (III) fits in the palm of my hand. My suit case zips. And I don't even have to sit on it, first.

I do enjoy the opportunity to travel. Even though the friendly skies aren't quite the same as an open-road. I still can't help feeling my innocence each time I peer out the small windows of the plane at the ground below. Those views always bring back childhood memories of Barbie-Ville and Little People Land. And I still learn quite a few things about myself every time I'm at the airport. Bags waiting. Falling apart, standing in line. Stuck together like a ready made.