Le Sigh . . . Packing . . .

Packing sucks.  Packing sucks.  Packing sucks, packing sucks, packing sucks.  Ah, that feels better.  (Oops, one more: Packing.  Sucks.)  Why?  Because you try to fold everything neatly, place it in the suitcase/receptacle orderly-like, play Tetris so it all fits without bursting some seams, ruthlessly edit what the hell you’re bringing, and then undo it mere hours later! All that effort for only a couple hours’ transportation!  Just thinking about it gives me hives.  (Early Dane Cook fans?  No?  Alright.)  And don’t even get me started on repacking to go home.  It all brings me back to the same conclusion: PACKING.  SUCKS.  That’s as close to a key smash as I’ll allow myself in public communication.

However, like planes and washing your hands after you pee, packing is slightly necessary, so I guess I’ll do it.

Can't I Have a Pro Without a Con?

Contrary to my nature, I had a blog post all planned out about packing and how I’d rather sew my fingers together than do it; I even have the pictures to prove it.  But in accordance to the laws of “Gotcha!” that govern my life, as I sat down to write it, I checked my email and received a pretty little surprise: a response from my contact person in La Flèche!  In English!

Dance party!