Unexplainable

I hate packing. I don't know why, all I know is that it leaves me a mental wreck and a broken woman. To combat this my normal approach is to wait until the last possible second, and then devote 80% of the time I have to stomping around soliloquizing about how I cant handle and hate packing, then use the remaining time to throw inappropriate and often unwashed clothes into a bag, before losing control completely and throwing half of them out, because "No one can be expected to carry a bag this heavy!" and "Shoes are overrated" and "I'll buy towels!!". Or, in the case of my November trip to Sheffield, going wine-tasting the night before, waking up late and forgetting to pack entirely.

So this time I have shocked and surprised myself by starting to pack not four hours or four minutes before I leave the country, but four days before. Its incredible. I had all the same break-downs this morning, while Kaydence looked on appalled but remained calm and was always there with an "Its okay" and "Don't worry" and had several strops where I declared the whole idea of packing was impossible and convincing myself that I had many hours of watching the situation get much worse before it got any better, but now, eight hours later, I think its going to be okay. My bag is packed. Tomorrow I will unpack it and wash everything, Friday I will unpack it and throw half the clothes out (shoes are over-rated, and often unnecessary) - but the point is that for the next few days I don't have to worry about packing, because, its kinda done.

Winner.