Before the Hikes

It’s almost that time of year again: the requisite and much-needed road trip out West for IP and me. As I mentioned before, we’re actually headed to Oregon this time around, so we’ll fly over Colorado, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico rather than wander around in the Four Corners area. Driving my desire are all the wonderful comments I’ve heard about the area, and the fact that my family spent some time in Medford, Oregon back in the days when I was just a figment of my parents’ imaginations.  We shall return to the southwest, though! Perhaps, one day, to live—we’ve got our retirement gears in motion, certainly.

And so start my efforts to pack. As IP has counseled me throughout our nearly six ye—I mean, seven month relationship, making a list and checking it twice is the wisest way to go. I might listen to IP, but I seldom do what he says—it’s a hallmark of our loving relationship. Therefore, I am a notoriously horrible packer because I always, always forget something.

It’s never as drastic as leaving my hiking boots behind or not bringing a coat with me, but I have been known to leave out a change of clothes or two. Typically, this means a quick trip to the local big box store, such as Wal-Mart. I don’t particularly like giving money to Wal-Mart, but they did save my butt in Durango, Colorado, when we had one more hiking day to go and I was out of shorts and shirts.

Another reason why the packing list turns me off is because mine is so long. IP gets to toss shorts, shoes, shirts, socks and underwear into his suitcase and go. Me? Well, I’m a decidedly uncomplicated kind of woman, especially when it comes to hiking, but I still have things with which I cannot be parted. Sure, I do the tossing of the shorts, shoes, shirts, socks and underwear (and bras) into the suitcase, but my list continues still, loaded with things by which IP is happily unencumbered:

• Hairbrush—oh, the joy of being able to get a high and tight
• Hair styling crème—yes, my hair’s in a ponytail, but that does not prevent frizziness
• Hair ties, and back up hair ties for the initial hair ties that will get lost
• Contact lens cleaning solution
• Contact lens case
• Extra contacts just in case
• Glasses
• Eyeglass wipes
• Body lotion for my dry skin
• Lip gloss
• Face wash
• Diva Cup, for those special three days that happen to coincide with my vacation
• Panty (I hate that word) liners on those special three days . . . you get it
• Allergy medicine
• Cell phone charger

And that’s just what I can think of at the moment. When frantically packing the night before, I usually do a mental head-and-down-from-there body check to make sure everything is packed, but that’s not foolproof. As you can see from the above list, I’m hardly packing anything utterly frivolous and meaningless to hiking, such as a ton of makeup and straightening irons, but the list gets pretty long regardless. By the time I finish packing, my suitcase feels so full that I doubt I can bring back any souvenirs—and I seldom do bring them back, as evidenced by my family’s sour disappointment at not getting little gifts from my trips. I hate full suitcases, too; they’re signs of inefficient packing and overcompensation to me, so it’s always infuriating that I’ve left something behind when I feel like I’ve packed my whole apartment into the thing.

Will I be wise and take off from this post, build a list, check it twice, make sure that I have everything in my suitcase (with room left over, somehow)? I’ll honestly attempt to. Might other things get in the way of my packing properly? Perhaps—the Internets provides plenty of distraction when I should be folding clothes and arranging them properly into my suitcase.

And you know me. I just like complaining.