Maybe getting your dress stuck in the door of a moving car and having to run in heels to keep up with it to prevent impending doom? Or being forced to gorge yourself with a food that you absolutely despise for an extended period of time? Or maybe having your face pounded in by a mixed martial arts fighter? If you haven't yet caught on, it's pretty safe to assume that packing is one of my least favorite activities in the world to do.
This all started when we decided to go home for a week to celebrate the hubby's 30th birthday with family and friends. Is there really a better way to welcome the forth decade of your life than to spend a completely relaxed week filled with good friends, good food, and good music? Probably not. The thing is, when you are unsure of exactly what activities will fill the days and nights of your trip, and you're going back to a place where the only thing more unpredictable than the weather is the amount of weight that you'll put on by the time you return home (thanks to the amazing food that you can't find anywhere else,) it becomes very difficult to choose an appropriate wardrobe to bring. Add to that the fact that your one carry-on item must be replaced by your 13 pound spoiled rotten Maltese, which means you are allowed a total of two bags under 50 pounds, and the dilemma is further exaccerbated.
So, this little situation is what led to me sitting on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by a mass of chaos that can only be described as looking as if my closet threw up. After remaining stuck in the cycle of packing, unpacking, reconfiguring what I can bring, repacking, weighing the suitcases, realizing I'm still over on weight limit <sanity pizza break> figuring what outfits can be reworked and what jeans can be worn twice, sadly narrowing shoe selection to only two pairs of black boots (one which will be worn on the flight, how's that for space saving!), two pairs of heels, one pair of tennis shoes, and two pairs of sandals, and repacking - again, I have finally managed to get my two suitcases to right below their maximum weight limit, which, to me, feels like completing a freaking marathon - in record time (and by that, I mean taking longer than it's ever taken anyone else to complete.)
Ok, so I have to admit that I have the slightest touch of OCD (hold the laughter,) which is probably a huge contributing factor to my packing-induced mania. The hubby initially thought that my stress over packing was funny, and that it seemed far more complicated than it should be, but that was over 24 hours ago. Now, I'm pretty sure he just thinks it's ridiculous. He's completely given up on our night out at the movies in lieu of watching a Cops marathon, which I'm sure he's not terribly torn up about. But I have to admit that even I am a bit aggravated with myself at this point. Because, truth be told, it really should not be this difficult. It seems so much easier for a guy to pack: a few pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, a sweater or two, a jacket, underwear, socks, shoes: done. If something gets worn twice or even three times, so be it. At least that's my hubby's attitude. So, why isn't it that easy for me? Two words: Anal Retentive! As I just mentioned, I am definitely OCD, or, as a friend's mother once put it, I have "CDO - I have to put the letters in the right order." I have to agree, I guess I'm a little obsessed with perfection, and I have no problem with admitting it because clearly it's true, and looking back on the last 24 hours (or the last 24 years) I have to have a good laugh at myself.
So, to end this little poke at my obsessive, anal retentive, can't make a decision self, all I have to say is that the weather better be relatively mild back home, and we can only go out someplace really nice once. Other than that, let's keep it relatively casual - because if I have to shop for new clothes while I'm home, my only option will be to either ship them back to Vegas or leave them behind :(
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
It's 2011? Did I sleep through 2010?
I've always heard that, as you get older, the years go by faster. Given that I blinked and damn near missed 2010, I'm guessing it's true. 2010 was a completely insane, unsettled year, and is mostly a blur. So with the beginning of 2011 here, the last year of my 20's <pouting>, I have decided that I will push myself to actually achieve the goals that I have successfully put off nearly every year since I began making resolutions, and to achieve them before I hit 30. Those goals would be:
-Get in better shape (no eye-rolling, I'm really going to do it this year!)
-Learn to play the piano. I can play a mean Mary Had a Little Lamb, but since I'm not six years old, no one's impressed.
-Volunteer more – or, to be honest, just plain volunteer, period.
-Get a hobby. Painting? Sewing? Photography? I'm not really sure yet, but I'll let you know when I figure it out.
-Learn a foreign language – probably Spanish...or Italian if that will convince the hubby to take me to Italy.)
-Finally print the six or so years-worth of digital photos that I have saved on the computer and organize them into albums.
I initially was extremely motivated to acheive my little list of 2011 to-dos. How hard can it be? Right? Well, the minute my plane left New Orleans the day after Christmas, I already felt that motivation draining away. Maybe it's because my motivation was already being replaced by homesickness, or because I managed to pick up what I can only describe as the NOLA sludge (because I seem to come down with it everytime I've visited a quarter bar since I left) while I was home – sinus infection, cough, clogged ears, sore throat – you get the pic. Maybe it's because the energy of being surrounded by family and friends while I was home was quickly replaced with quiet day-to-day life when I got home, or because I spent New Year's Eve sick on the couch watching everyone else having a blast (I know it's supposed to be fun, it at the time, it really felt like rubbing-it-in)? Regardless of the reason, the fact is that I suddenly didn't feel so motivated anymore.
Just when I was wallowing in my self-inflicted homesick, stuffy-headed, motivation lacking misery, something happened that completely changed my mood: It started snowing!
Given that I lived through Snowmageddon, snow should not be something that excites me. But this is snow in the desert - one of the hottest places in the US, and here we are, covered in a blanket of white, fluffy smile-inducing, giggle-inciting snow. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. After the bizarre excitement subsided, I had that AH HA! moment, where I felt like a new-age freak waiting for a sign. I should always expect the unexpected. The last thing I expected was to actually get blanketed by snow in the desert. I thought that I surely left that behind when I left DC. So, after having a moment of feeling like a kid again, I sit here suddenly feeling excited to go after my list again...as soon as I can completely shake the sludge. And come September, when I bid farewell to my 20's and set forth on the journey into the fourth decade of my life, I will do so with six-pack abs and wearing my original self-designed and sewn clothes. And when my adoring husband compliments me on my amazing achievement as a pianist, I will simply reply "Grazie, amore mio" and he will be so impressed, he'll book our Italy trip on the spot. And, when I wake up from that amazing dream, I'll hit the gym and head to Children's Hospital to fulfill my volunteering resolution. I may be motivated, but I'm not unrealistic :) Happy New Year my friends!
-Get in better shape (no eye-rolling, I'm really going to do it this year!)
-Learn to play the piano. I can play a mean Mary Had a Little Lamb, but since I'm not six years old, no one's impressed.
-Volunteer more – or, to be honest, just plain volunteer, period.
-Get a hobby. Painting? Sewing? Photography? I'm not really sure yet, but I'll let you know when I figure it out.
-Learn a foreign language – probably Spanish...or Italian if that will convince the hubby to take me to Italy.)
-Finally print the six or so years-worth of digital photos that I have saved on the computer and organize them into albums.
I initially was extremely motivated to acheive my little list of 2011 to-dos. How hard can it be? Right? Well, the minute my plane left New Orleans the day after Christmas, I already felt that motivation draining away. Maybe it's because my motivation was already being replaced by homesickness, or because I managed to pick up what I can only describe as the NOLA sludge (because I seem to come down with it everytime I've visited a quarter bar since I left) while I was home – sinus infection, cough, clogged ears, sore throat – you get the pic. Maybe it's because the energy of being surrounded by family and friends while I was home was quickly replaced with quiet day-to-day life when I got home, or because I spent New Year's Eve sick on the couch watching everyone else having a blast (I know it's supposed to be fun, it at the time, it really felt like rubbing-it-in)? Regardless of the reason, the fact is that I suddenly didn't feel so motivated anymore.
Just when I was wallowing in my self-inflicted homesick, stuffy-headed, motivation lacking misery, something happened that completely changed my mood: It started snowing!
 |
| If it can snow in the desert, surely I can learn to play piano! |
Given that I lived through Snowmageddon, snow should not be something that excites me. But this is snow in the desert - one of the hottest places in the US, and here we are, covered in a blanket of white, fluffy smile-inducing, giggle-inciting snow. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. After the bizarre excitement subsided, I had that AH HA! moment, where I felt like a new-age freak waiting for a sign. I should always expect the unexpected. The last thing I expected was to actually get blanketed by snow in the desert. I thought that I surely left that behind when I left DC. So, after having a moment of feeling like a kid again, I sit here suddenly feeling excited to go after my list again...as soon as I can completely shake the sludge. And come September, when I bid farewell to my 20's and set forth on the journey into the fourth decade of my life, I will do so with six-pack abs and wearing my original self-designed and sewn clothes. And when my adoring husband compliments me on my amazing achievement as a pianist, I will simply reply "Grazie, amore mio" and he will be so impressed, he'll book our Italy trip on the spot. And, when I wake up from that amazing dream, I'll hit the gym and head to Children's Hospital to fulfill my volunteering resolution. I may be motivated, but I'm not unrealistic :) Happy New Year my friends!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)