I shall be travelling again at the end of the week. Its a thing I usually look at with dread. Travelling means packing.
I am bad at packing. Every time I travel, I end up postponing the packing part of the journey till the very last minute - and then hastily dumping the things I need to take into a suitcase. I end up leaving quite a few things I needed to pack, toothbrush, shaving tackle, socks, slippers...
I've never left my ticket behind. I check a million times before I reach the station or airport.
My wife loves packing. Not only for herself, but for me. She takes time and effort to select what she is going to take, intuitively works out the most optimum way of filling the suitcase, with due care to ensure that everything comes out more-or-less intact. The suitcase is carefully shut (without a pair of socks sticking out from the side), locked and carefully arranged near the front door in anticipation of our departure.
Naturally I have passed on the responsibility of packing to her capable hands. Once, in a burst of guilt, I did try to pack my bag myself, but the resultant chaos, lost temper and delayed journey swiftly convinced me to leave something to the experts.
There's something about packing that creates a mental block. Theoretically, I should be pretty good at it. I managed an A-grade in Optimisation in college, breezing through the section on Cargo Loading Problem. Even practically, my wife defers to my expertise in stuffing the last bowl of left-over into a fridge bursting to the seams.
But when it comes to packing I have waved the white flag long ago. I have done many hectic first-flight-in, last-flight-out type tours so that I didn't have to pack. I've sent colleagues out on tours instead of going myself for the same reason.
Unfortunately in the end you end up with tickets in your hand and an empty bag on the floor and a cupboard from which you've got to select which combinations of shirts, trousers, undergarments, nightwear and accessories need and should be coaxed into the suitcase.
"It's easy," says Nilanjana, "all you have to do is to first put the trousers in this way..." I don't listen any more. My wife's home, and the packing is finally in safe hands.
I am bad at packing. Every time I travel, I end up postponing the packing part of the journey till the very last minute - and then hastily dumping the things I need to take into a suitcase. I end up leaving quite a few things I needed to pack, toothbrush, shaving tackle, socks, slippers...
I've never left my ticket behind. I check a million times before I reach the station or airport.
My wife loves packing. Not only for herself, but for me. She takes time and effort to select what she is going to take, intuitively works out the most optimum way of filling the suitcase, with due care to ensure that everything comes out more-or-less intact. The suitcase is carefully shut (without a pair of socks sticking out from the side), locked and carefully arranged near the front door in anticipation of our departure.
Naturally I have passed on the responsibility of packing to her capable hands. Once, in a burst of guilt, I did try to pack my bag myself, but the resultant chaos, lost temper and delayed journey swiftly convinced me to leave something to the experts.
There's something about packing that creates a mental block. Theoretically, I should be pretty good at it. I managed an A-grade in Optimisation in college, breezing through the section on Cargo Loading Problem. Even practically, my wife defers to my expertise in stuffing the last bowl of left-over into a fridge bursting to the seams.
But when it comes to packing I have waved the white flag long ago. I have done many hectic first-flight-in, last-flight-out type tours so that I didn't have to pack. I've sent colleagues out on tours instead of going myself for the same reason.
Unfortunately in the end you end up with tickets in your hand and an empty bag on the floor and a cupboard from which you've got to select which combinations of shirts, trousers, undergarments, nightwear and accessories need and should be coaxed into the suitcase.
"It's easy," says Nilanjana, "all you have to do is to first put the trousers in this way..." I don't listen any more. My wife's home, and the packing is finally in safe hands.
2 comments:
This is 'cos you read about J, George and Harris -- to say nothing of the dog-- packing.
Can you drive a nail in the wall?
Oooh Meher can have a new name for bhuts - Uncle Podger [grin]
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