it’s called a suitcase…

Yes, that large, red, squarish thing in the middle of my floor is a suitcase. Actually, it’s three suitcases, as the easiest way to store them is one inside the other. I forced myself to remove them from the closet, because part of me has been wanting to do that, for a while now. You know, get them out, and then you’ll be more inclined to start packing. Right?

As I keep peering over my shoulder, to examine these somewhat foreign-looking objects, I’m not remotely interested in trying to pack them. Instead, I would really like to know how in the blue blazes I’m supposed to fit everything into those, when I go home?

Of course, it’s a splendid opportunity to throw away any clothes I don’t want, or that have holes in them, or are too tight. I also have no plans to carry any bathroom products, like shampoo or face wash. As I recall, I did carry quite a few of those with me, when I came over here. No more. I have souvenirs and presents and lots of new clothes to fit into those containers… those containers that appear smaller to my eyes, every time I look at them.

I will be mailing home a box or two, especially one of books. But how much else to send? I have yet to see what price I will pay for an extra suitcase. Then again, because I’ll be flying internationally, I shouldn’t be paying for my regular luggage, just the extra stuff. Don’t I just sound like I’m on top of things? I know I wrote about suitcases, a year ago, when I first started to pack for coming to AUS. But then, I had finished with my job, so I’m pretty sure I had two weeks of nothing to do BUT pack. Oy.

In the meantime, I do need to get out the smallest suitcase, and pack it for my week in Sydney. I am starting to think that I might be able to get away with no checked luggage for Sydney, but to bring a bag or two, in case I buy enough to check a bag on the way back. As you may have guessed, I’m dawdling on that packing job, too. I am not usually such a procrastinator, but I keep having these strange longings, for one of my friends back home to get his rear in gear, and finish building a transporter. Beam me and my stuff home, Scotty. Don’t make me pack it all and make sure it ways the right amount.

On the bright side, I’m filling up my schedule, before leaving for Sydney, so I don’t have any time to pack, or even think about packing. Sounds like a plan, right? Between going to see Mirror Mirror, tomorrow evening, eating dinner out, finding something to wear to a wedding, going to a wedding on Saturday, and partying with all my friends…. I guess I’ll be packing for Sydney on Sunday morning. But hey, as long as I bring my camera, I’m okay, right?  : )

2 thoughts on “it’s called a suitcase…

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