antipodes

Packing went on all week. Every choice was labored. It’s mid-summer in New Zealand, have I brought enough yellow and green? Will the mornings be cool enough for long johns?  Can I get by with medium grit sandpaper, or should I take fine and coarse as well? Once selected, each item was inventoried, and placed in suitcases, hard things nestled in soft things to minimize shock and damage.  Each bag was composed not to exceed the weight limit of 50lbs.

“Myself”, I said standing in the bathroom packing toiletries on the day before I left, “it’s a long flight to New Zealand and you’ll want to brush your teeth along the way. You could take this half-used tube of toothpaste, but it might be confiscated by the TSA for exceeding the gel limit. Or you could take your third trip in two days to the drugstore and buy a travel size.” Pondering the choice, I looked up, and saw in the mirror a face so worried that it could have been captioned, “MOMENTS BEFORE AN EXPLOSIVE ANEURYSM, MAN ATTEMPTS TO FORESEE EVERY EVENTUALITY AND PACK PERFECTLY SO THAT NOTHING EVER GOES WRONG”