I’m sitting at my computer wondering “how exactly does one pack for 6 weeks in another country?” I play through the mental inventory of my closets… scroll down my virtual list of recent purchases. Do I have everything? (Now THERE’S a metaphysical question). And the answer, both physical and theoretical, is No.
I don’t even know what all I need. Maybe I already have everything I’ll need, my optimistic subconscious suggests. But the probability of this is low. And being that I am relatively Aristotelian by nature, making most decisions based on logic, eenie meenie miney mo, or the weather (it’s all science, right?), I find it much more sensible to believe that I will wake up mid-flight, blurting out something random like “Sh**! My toe socks!” Which will startle the temporarily quiet toddler sitting next to me into a fit of I’m-being-tortured-by-the-taliban screams. His mother will glare menacingly at me, as will everyone else on the plane…and I’ll find myself dropped off in Iceland, with no toe socks.
See? Logic.
A flash of lightning interrupts my scientific calculations. I jump up to search for the Burberry umbrella my brother (who must think I have other name brand accessories to go with it) gave me for Mother’s day. Tossing it into one of the gaping suitcases, I am satisfied that I have officially begun packing. Now, all I have to do is put some clothes in there with it. I’ve heard that many Europeans are very liberal, but I’m sure they’d appreciate me wearing a little more than an umbrella.
I better go find my toe socks.
I don’t even know what all I need. Maybe I already have everything I’ll need, my optimistic subconscious suggests. But the probability of this is low. And being that I am relatively Aristotelian by nature, making most decisions based on logic, eenie meenie miney mo, or the weather (it’s all science, right?), I find it much more sensible to believe that I will wake up mid-flight, blurting out something random like “Sh**! My toe socks!” Which will startle the temporarily quiet toddler sitting next to me into a fit of I’m-being-tortured-by-the-taliban screams. His mother will glare menacingly at me, as will everyone else on the plane…and I’ll find myself dropped off in Iceland, with no toe socks.
See? Logic.
A flash of lightning interrupts my scientific calculations. I jump up to search for the Burberry umbrella my brother (who must think I have other name brand accessories to go with it) gave me for Mother’s day. Tossing it into one of the gaping suitcases, I am satisfied that I have officially begun packing. Now, all I have to do is put some clothes in there with it. I’ve heard that many Europeans are very liberal, but I’m sure they’d appreciate me wearing a little more than an umbrella.
I better go find my toe socks.
1 comment:
hi-freakin-larious!
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