Hobo

I hate packing. It lacks the excitement it once had when I was 6 years old and would lay out my overalls, bandannas, hiking boots, flashlight, bug spray, etc. at least 10 days before I left for summer camp.

All I do is pack and unpack. It's gotten a little monotonous.

Between moving out of Provo,
a road trip to Northern Idaho,
a jaunt to Washington, D.C.,
2 weeks in Chile,
a weekend in Zion,
all interspersed with week-long periods in California,
I AM OVER IT.

Now I'm packing for Romania.  I leave in 7 hours. BLEEEEEHHHH.

Life would be so much easier and packing so much more enjoyable if I was Huck Finn.

It's like one of those unimaginative dating game questions: "If you were banned to a desert island and could take 3 possessions with you, what would they be???"

I wish I only had 3 possessions.  And that I was a nudist. Packing would be bliss if I was a nudist. [No cartoon for that, you sickos]