Who Says You Can't Go Home

I am packing. I wouldn't say I'm bad at packing, but I would say that
I have a hard time living minimalistic-ly. I've learned this over the
last few years. I would pack lighter and find myself at my vacation
destination changing 42 times in a day because the weather changed as
often and darn it, I knew I'd be in the mood to wear that teal t-shirt
with the picture on the camera on it!  And where is it? At home in the
"stays here" pile.

At the same time, there are always items I end up not touching at all,
but really, how do you know what you're going to feel like wearing
three days from now?

That would be an interesting psychic skill; my commercial would come
on really late at night, during Jerry Springer reruns and sandwiched
between the ad for a memory improvement pill and some 900 number
ad..."Are you taking a trip?"  I'd say, wearing some kind of Stevie
Nicks-ish shawl, "Why stress out about what to pack? I can tell you
what you'll feel like wearing three days from now! Come on in for a
reading! We're located on the corner of Sketchy Street and Liar
Avenue, just behind The Hairless Cat Saloon!".  *Just $19.99 for a
reading!*  would blink at the bottom of the screen.

I'd say this all in a Jamaican accent.

I've accepted my poor packing skills, even though it embarrasses me a
bit to know that I like what I like and I like having what I like
around me.

'Point is I'll be in MA in 24 hours and 24 hours after that I will be
surrounded by family and surrogate family in Cape Cod - Land of fun
and...chilly breeze at night.

Good thing I packed two sweatshirts.