There are a variety of approaches to packing.
I take the highly academic approach.
Well, in theory I take the highly academic approach
As one would, I begin with a thoroughly itemized itinerary. I then consult the regional weather forecast. Sensible enough, right? Terrain must also be considered. After all, stilettos may not be advisable at the AlHambra. And what about bugs? Hello Winnipeg! Sun exposure? Cultural observances? Heat domes? So much to consider!
Having identified each event and cross referenced it with the predicted weather, possible threats and regional sensitivities, I then list each component of the carefully curated ensembles that will be my apparel for said events. All of these deliberations get entered, component by component, on a spreadsheet. Each pair of shoes is assigned a specific colour entry so that I can easily identify what shoes go with what outfit. The trick is to take the fewest number of shoes possible. Ditto for accessories. If something can be deployed and redeployed in multiples of ensembles, well, that’s packing genius on display. I always pack a thermal layer, even when traveling to the Mediterranean. Crazy? you scoff. Well, I’ve encountered snow in May in Spain so who’s crazy now? And you never know when the proverbial Little Black Dress will come in handy so tuck in one of those, too.
There are a variety of approaches to packing.
Mine is a highly researched approach that ought to make me an asset to any head of state or captain of industry.
Yes, this is my approach.
In theory.
My theoretical approach.
Here’s what usually happens.
It starts with what I call a flooredrobe. It’s basically your wardrobe spread out on the floor a week in advance. Much of this will still be on the floor upon your return. Don’t think of this as a mess but as a clever ruse: if your home is broken into during your absence, the crooks will think someone got there ahead of them and burgle your neighbours instead.
Spend the week eyeing these clothes suspiciously. Is it possible that any of these clothes have “shrunk” since the last expedition? Of course, I could try them on … but that could prove dispiriting. I then start a pyramid of toiletries and wonder if I should decant each one into those tiny travel-sized containers. This is a job that no one wants – squeezing stuff into little bottles is like having the ketchup bottle battle a dozen times in a row. Next, I start a pyramid of shoes and wonder if any of them are “universal” enough to qualify for inclusion. This is my own heart-breaking version of Sophie’s Choice.
It starts with what I call a flooredrobe.
This array will remain in place up until 24 hours to departure. Its very presence will prompt Mercury to go into retrograde.
Here’s my most recent “failure to launch” experience. In the hours leading up to departure, I noticed that the milk in the fridge had gone off. Yes, the fridge had chosen this moment to quit. A major campaign of emptying the fridge is launched. Rather than chuck a bunch of kiwis that won’t last until my return, I, of course, elect to make jam. I then leave that jam simmering in the pot until the house fills with smoke as I sort out all the spoiled food that I was taking to the green bin and garbage can in the alley. Later, I rush to a hair appointment and, just as my hairdresser goes to wash my hair, BC Hydro will cut power to the whole block. Returning home, someone on my block has had a medical event resulting in a battalion of firetrucks and ambulances blocking access to my house.
Bon voyage?
With only hours to go before departure, I hurl an odd assortment of clothing into my suitcase.
I will have deduced, however, exactly which pair of shoes will be the most useful on the trip.
I’ll pack those.
But just the left shoe.
Bon voyage?
This week’s question for readers:
ANY “PACK HACKS” TO SHARE? ANY “LEFT SHOE” STORIES?
Leave your Comments below!
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Submissions to last week’s question:
WHAT ARE YOUR EXPERIENCES WITH THE TOTALLY UNEXPECTED?
In grade nine in 1963 I met a cute red headed girl (Valera) and we started dating by Christmas. Unfortunately, my family moved to B.C. at the end of the school year. In 1973 I was in Winnipeg for one week as a photographer for the .99 cent Baby Picture promotion. A line of mothers had formed outside the studio and down the hall. I ventured out to let them know it would be a long wait. There, at the end of the line, about to leave, were Valera and her six month old daughter from a failed marriage. She slipped me her phone number and asked me to call. This coming December we will have been married 50 years.
Jackson Lymburner
Some years ago, while driving my Toyota van westbound over the Port Mann Bridge, a large mattress came flying at us! We expected it to land smack on the large windscreen, but it didn’t, and disappeared. Terrifying! And we never heard anything about it, so hope that it didn’t cause an accident somewhere behind us.
Hilary Johnston
I was driving the QEW on my way to Niagara on a rush hour Friday. Suddenly I see a mattress hurtling towards me. As I tried to swerve in packed traffic, at the last moment a breezy uplift sent the mattress sailing over the roof of my car. I was too gobsmacked to see if any cars behind me got blanketed.
Madeleine Lefebvre
In my mid 70s, so lots of life experiences and I know life can change in seconds. From a healthy spouse diagnosed with leukemia three months after we married, to my current deadly lung disease called Pulmonary Fibrosis … and I’ve NEVER smoked! Most recently, doing what I’ve done many times – getting a tray of plants out of my car, caught my toe on fencing and smashed into the driveway causing much body damage but luckily, what saved my face, was literally the “face plant” into the plants!
Ms. R. Thomas
Driving home from work, I was 25 meters from entering the Cassiar Tunnel in Vancouver, driving 80 km/hr in the inside lane when my driver side window completely shattered. In an instant, I was covered in glass while surrounded by vehicles all going 80 Km/hr. I have no idea how I managed to keep control or what smashed the glass. I drove the next 10 kms in a cold wind before getting home and thanking the lord.
Scott McGillivray
Some decades ago, I flew alone to Paris to begin my new life as a student. Beside my seat was a Japanese man, who said he had quit his work to go climb in Chamonix in France. In my studio in Paris, I received a postcard with a beautiful mountain sunset with his joyful message. The next time I heard about him was from his friend who found my name and address in his belongings and informed me of his passing. My lesson learned: treat anybody I see as if it was the last time I will see this person. Our world could be a kinder place.
Chiyo Buston
It was a sidewalk. A perfectly groomed, flat and level sidewalk. Flawless. With friends, walking fast, talking lots. No worries, right? A slightly wider sidewalk with just enough room for us to walk three abreast. I was to the right, failing to notice a drop-off edge of about two inches. Stepping half on, half off the edge was all it took for my ankle to twist. I crashed, my ankle, a coiled spring that dive-bombed me like a ton of bricks. I missed the nice, soft grass and went straight to the hard stuff. Fractured both wrists. Multiple nasty breaks.
Shelley Dickson van Stolk
My most unexpected experience involved a crazed rooster and my own poor judgement.
I routinely collected the eggs from our backyard flock while the birds were free-ranging. One memorable time, I didn’t get to the henhouse until early evening when they were all inside. While I was bent over reaching into the nesting boxes, the rooster mounted my head and started to attack. I covered my face with my arms as scenes from Hitchcock’s movie, “The Birds” flashed before my eyes as I froze in fear of being pecked to death. Lots of flapping wings and frenzied noise before I was able to snap out of my stupor and defend myself. A few stitches to my head and a tetanus shot were required and I learned that roosters defending their hens were definitely to be avoided.
Paula Alvaro
What could go wrong after a wonderful experience at George Reifel Bird Sanctuary?
We were just driving away from a splendid appreciation of numerous bird species when up in the sky, we noticed hundreds, if not thousands, of white snow geese in the air. We looked up as the flock headed in our direction. Suddenly, the sound of massive splatters hit the top of our car, just like when you select SUPREME at the automated car wash. We resisted using our wipers on the colourful mess, and drove home slowly peeking through mini clearings on our windshield.
Yin Yin and Denis Matisz
I was making dinner and wanted black olives for a Greek salad so I pulled out a can and proceeded to open them. My can opener unfortunately skipped a couple of spots which left me with a lid that was only partly opened. I tried to force the lid open with a spoon handle but a nagging voice in my head told me that it could only end in tragedy so I put the spoon down and decided to try to twist it off by hand. One small move and the edge of the lid was firmly embedded in my thumb from joint to tip. As I pulled it off I couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that it had stopped when it hit bone but there wasn’t any blood so I went into the bathroom to get a band aid. I put my thumb under the tap to wash it off and the blood just spurted all over the place. Obviously a band aid wasn’t going to work. I started to dig into the first aid kit for some butterfly closures but I couldn’t find them and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to hold the sides together and put on the closures by myself so I phoned my neighbour and he came over with butterfly closures and put them on. The bleeding stopped immediately. I cleaned up the bloody bathroom and the trails of blood into the kitchen and found myself staring at the partly opened can of olives. I turned it over, drained the liquid out and proceeded to open the bottom of the can in one go. Just goes to show, I picked the wrong end to open. The next day, I went out and bought a new can opener.
Anna Bentley
A few years ago, my wife and I stopped for lunch on the third day of a four day trek to the incomparable Machu Picchu. Perched high on a hill was a plastic Johnny-on-the-Spot with an actual toilet seat. I thought myself very lucky as I knew that this would be the only one we would see on our journey. I was sitting on the throne feeling quite smug when suddenly I was hit by aluminum polling as this fragile structure collapsed over me. I was dazed and disoriented but somehow managed to right myself and sheepishly emerge to the howling of my companions who thought this was the funniest thing ever. A short distance away, I saw a couple of grazing llamas paying no attention to the hilarity before me. Apparently, they had been spooked by lightning and had come charging down the hill, trashing my Johnny-on-the-Spot in the process. I thought to myself that this could very well go down as one of the truly iconic moments in the annals of Inca folklore!
Avrum Miller
One beautiful morning, I was on Granville Street to do errands and instead, did a sidewalk faceplant. A lovely lady named Rochelle came right over to help me up and we tried to staunch the bleeding from my forehead. She then walked me down to Shoppers where a brave Pharmacist cleaned me up and called paramedics when he deemed I needed stitches. So, I had my first visit with Paramedics, first ride in an ambulance and first visit to Emergency. After a 13 hour wait, I was finally sent home in a taxi, with five stitches on my forehead, cuts and grazes on my face, hands and knees, also with a full leg brace and crutches for a potential hairline fracture on my knee. Fortunately, on my two week visit to the Ortho Clinic, they deemed it to be safe to ditch the brace and crutches. What really helped was that I had wonderful friends and neighbours who brought me groceries and picked up my prescription and drove me to my medical appointment, etc. While it was tremendously difficult to make meals and even to get dressed, it would have been impossible without these caring people in my life.
I now look upon difficulties with a different eye and try to never take good health for granted. You just never know when disaster will strike.
Claire Robertson