One of the things I’ve learned about myself through traveling is I’m a quitter. Before a trip, I assume a well organized, and diligent role and begin packing at least 1 week in advance. Narrowing down which pants and shirts to bring according to weather reports, making sure we have disposable razors, enough diapers, emergency pants, dog sitter booked…I clearly have the prep work down. It’s after returning from a trip that my alter ego, “ball-dropping-disarray-frazzled-quitter” takes over.
Since my family grew beyond just myself, there have been some major adjustments for my traveling habits. When I was single, I would return back to my apartment, unload my backpack directly into the washer, and call it a day. Now that I have two children a child and a husband, the aftermath of whirlwind vacations are more catastrophic requiring a more vigorous clean-up.
Although my packing strategies are seamless, I hate unpacking. To the point where I just won’t do it. Perhaps because I expel too much time and effort into preparing, that when it comes time to clean up, I have nothing left to give. Or, I’ve enjoyed myself so much elsewhere, that I am subconsciously denying my return to the status quo by not unpacking (buy any of that?). It is not uncommon for my husband and I to just live out of a suitcase for about a month (or until we run out of clean underpants), regardless of how long a vacation was. Friends would come over and ask, “did you just go away again?” *Deer in the headlights stare* Uh, no I was just too lazy to unpack since the last one. *Close bedroom door immediately.
After returning late last night from our Thanksgiving trip to New Jersey, we somehow made a drastic leap in progress. Before I even finished taking off my shoes, my husband began shoving dirty clothes from our suitcases into the washer, ON HIS OWN! An entire load of laundry was washed and dried before we went to bed. Dr. Travel Syndrome, I believe someone may ready for a lowered dose of the don’t-be-a-lazy-ass pills, thank you.