The Whistler trip is done, and I promised myself I would wait until at least this long before I started packing for London. I know we don’t leave for 25 more sleeps, but I’m a worrier – what if I forget underwear? What if I accidentally pack pants? What if I get a dozen new most favourite ever articles of clothing that I want to take with me? These are all very real concerns of mine, which is why I pack ridiculously early and then repack seven more times before we actually leave. I like packing, okay. It comes in handy when you have a natural tendency to run away at the first sign of not-your-way but you also have a lot of awesome things that must come with you.
I am scheming. I want to do a serious hardcore purge of my closet, and I know I’ve got more than a few things that would be better off with friends – hell, I’ve even got half my wardrobe allotted out to other people because they’d look better in it than I ever would. I’m thinking about having a “by donation” night, where people come over and paw through my unmentionables and give me a few bucks for whatever they take. I’ve already given away so much to people, but I feel bad about charging for things .. so this would work well, actually. Hey, people I know: what are you doing next week, say .. Tuesday? Come to my place and take my dresses, bags and shoes. Not all of them, but some. More than some. Lots. I have too much goddamn stuff.
I am feeling so much better than I did last week. It is a treat to not feel like a pile of ass!