I am supposed to be packing for this trip.
But first I need to find a blanket that I promised my daughter in
Saskatoon. When I finally locate it in one of several identical plastic
containers in the basement, I discover that it needs mending. Must fix that! Must do it now.
By the time I've put my needle away I realize that the blanket search
has torn the basement apart. I re-stack the boxes and see that they are
filled with an assortment of completely useless bits and pieces that I
must have thought important at one time or other. I am filled with a
twitchy need to sort, stack and allocate. I catch myself taking old
paperbacks to the recycling bin. Wait a minute.....
Better see what I can use up in the refrigerator. I start throwing out
soups and sauces that will not survive abandonment. I can't stand the
grimy shelves and soon I am wiping them down. "How's the packing
going?" yells Bruce from upstairs. He, in truth, is not much more
focused than I am. He has just come back from a trip to the computer
shop on the corner where he has been investigating laptops.
I recognize this behaviour. It is the same impulse that drives students
to clean their dorm rooms the day before the chemistry exam. For some
reason we have become packing procrastinators. What is going on? I
can't imagine Columbus tidying the contents of his map chest hours
before setting off for Hispaniola. I'll bet Amelia Earhart wasn't
cleaning her ice box before heading to the airport.
Perhaps packing for a car trip seems too pedestrian?
That could very well be, but nevertheless, I had better get started. (I
hear my mother's voice admonishing: "If you don't get a wiggle on,
you'll still be doing that at midnight!")
All right! All right. I'll do it.
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