Packing Sans Memory

When a person goes on a trip, there are more important things to pack than knitting. Intellectually, I know this to be true. For most trips I have managed to get to my destination with all required items and many superfluous ones as well. Unfortunately, the desire not to forget one's knitting and packing hurriedly does not produce an optimal packing environment. The desire not to forget one's knitting, packing hurriedly, and trying not to kill the dog that is convinced that she should be packing, too ,because she wants to go on a trip, is, let's face it, packing hell.

Lest you think that I am an amateur at packing, I will tell you that I have been packing my own suitcase since I was 12, and all personal items for as long as I can remember. Given that my family did a lot of traveling overseas and my father has a PhD in packology, I have learned to pack the greatest amount of gear into the small possible space. I have also internalized the mantra of a. always keep your bags and other objects in front of you (I mention this one knowing that my sensei of the packing arts once left his jacket containing return tickets and passports on a shrub BEHIND him outside of Dulles International Airport. By some Divine providence, the jacket and all its contents were still there when he returned to retrieve it.); b. if you take it, you must carry it and c. if you forget anything, you will have to do without it for the duration of the trip. (My 10 year old list: Blankie. Check. Books. Check. Knitting. Check. Paper and pens. Check).

You would think that after so much training in the dojo of the Packologist, that I, his daughter, would be able to pack my overnight bag for an overnight visit to my parents' house without forgetting anything major. Perhaps I have grown too cocky after so many years of success. Perhaps it was the knitting obsession clouding my brain. Either way, I made it to my parents without my toiletry kit, including toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant and without clean underwear. My knitting, my reading material, my journal and my laptop made the trip without incident or missing parts. Go figure.

It is most difficult to hide the necessity of a toothbrush. The green cloud of death is a sure give away. My mom caught me trying to scam some deodorant. I was trying to save what little pride I had left since I had to ask for not only a toothbrush, but also had to ask for some toothpaste. She will know about the underwear as soon as she reads this. It will take quite some time to live this down.

I have gotten soft. I have also gotten scared. Is this the harbinger of something worse? I mean is this small oversight really the beginnings of the downward slide to the grave?

On second thought, that couldn't possibly be the case. No. I am suffering from frequent traveler traumatic stress syndrome (FTTSS). I haven't been home most weekends in February. I have had undue exposure to close family. Yes. It must be FTTSS. Only the ravages of FTTSS would cause one to forget not only one's toothbrush, but also cause one to forget one's underwear. I wonder how many letters to the American Psychiatric Association it would take to get FTTSS recognized as a treatable diagnosis? Perhaps it is worth a try. The alternative is too horrible to contemplate.