Get Packing

Pk Robbins Walzer

© Copyright 2020 by PK Robbins Walzer


Photo by Anete Lūsiņa on Unsplash
                                      Photo by Anete Lūsiņa on Unsplash

Packing is a fine art but also a gift that some people just seem to 'have'. I possess neither.

When it comes to tackling packing, I have a long way to go. I don’t mean that my destination is distant. I mean that my skill set is lacking in this department.

I have read countless articles on the subject. The pros and cons of folding vs. rolling. How to prepare for any sort of weather or social occasion. I even read a piece describing a handy dandy equation to calculate the number of outfits you could conjure up by multiplying your ‘tops’ by your ‘bottoms’. It seems there’s a lot to unpack about packing. And, in my case, there is often a lot to repack as well.

As far as I can tell, all the sage advice and arithmetic concerning optimal packing hinges on having clothes in more or less harmonious hues. Now I am fond of all my clothes and choose them like a teenage crush. I fall head-over-heels for each one, but it doesn’t seem that they care much for one another. Nevertheless, I optimistically fling them all together in a suitcase and hope that they will negotiate some sort of truce en route. So far, the peace process isn’t going all that well.

My husband, in contrast, is the James Bond of packing. From a bag the size of a shoebox, he is able to produce an array of elegant outfits worthy of a French fashion show. Not only does he always look dapper, but he is also prepared to summit the Matterhorn or dive a sunken wreck. His bags may be shaken, but their contents are never stirred. He looks freshly pressed and ready for adventure the minute he arrives.

I, on the other hand, am completely disheveled and discombobulated. I usually look like I have slept fitfully in my clothes. All of them. Not a single piece survives transit without notable kinks and creases. I have tried on some ‘wrinkle-resistant’ garments, but the fabric feels as though it is trying to slip off me, like a snake shedding its skin. Neither comfortable nor confidence-inspiring.

So, when we travel together, I resemble a tossed salad: multi-colored, slightly shredded, and all jumbled up. My husband is more like a sleek sushi-sashimi plate. Everything is fresh and neat and looks like a work of art.

Luckily for me, he doesn’t seem to mind traveling with what could be mistaken for an out-of-work scarecrow. And we enjoy our trips regardless of our attire. That being said, he offers to buy me ‘a nice outfit’ just about everywhere that we go. So, maybe one day, I’ll find that magical item to unify my motley wardrobe, and I will finally crack this packing thing.

Even though she is a poor packer, PK Robbins Walzer enjoys travel with her ever dapper and dashing husband. Together, they've driven through deserts, walked on walls, and gazed at gorillas. More adventures always await.

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