With 6 days to go until my flight next Monday, I’ve entered the packing rush. That is, I am running around looking for ways to fit four months of myself into a 50-pound Travel Gear luggage (and a carry-on). Yeah, right.
Might I need furry socks? Sure! Cocktail umbrellas? Pancake molds? If I didn’t leave myself a week to sort through my belongings I’d have an entire checked bag of emergency kitchen gadgets. I’m having a hard enough time picturing my life without the Magic Bullet, let alone the rest of my crap.
But I made a promise to myself: let Fight Club‘s mantra “The things you own end up owning you” scare me into stripping down to the essentials. What do I really need to be me?