I’m really bad at packing. Which probably sounds strange to people who know me as I’m pretty hot on all the things that lead up to it. I can do organisation, I can make lists – love to make lists – I can plan and plot and ponder, but packing, it’s not my bag. (ahem, sorry!).
I’m a packing procrastinator. As I sit and write this Mr L has done all his packing for the holiday. Separate bags for wedding and honeymoon, bags for wedding “stuff”, all the documents are printed and ready, his hand luggage pile is neat and ordered. What have I done? I chose the books I want to take with me and bough a spare set of trainer socks.
Nothing is packed, it’s not even in piles to be packed. In fact I have a long list of toiletries that are still sitting in the shop because I haven’t even bought them yet.
And yet I was up at 06.49 this morning because I’m so excited about our trip. I could have packed in that time, instead I made coffee, sent numerous all-capitals text messages to my mum about how excited I am, drank the coffee and procrastinated some more by writing a blog post.
We set off for our flight in six hours. What’s the betting I’m still throwing things in a bag as the taxi pulls up?
Thank goodness someone else packed the dress and all I have to do is carry it.