Packing and traveling confound me. I don't get it. People who do it all the time are like a different species from my house-dweller variety.
It's a good thing I wasn't born during the pioneer days. 1) I'd be dead from my fibroids that nearly killed me 8 years ago. 2) I'd have never made it past the first blade of grass on the wagon train moving west because I'd completely fail the preparation thing and likely be beaten to death near the river bank by a hoard of pioneer women thinking it best to put me out of my misery, and theirs.
I think I need everything. I generally berate myself upon arrival learning that I brought things that -- once viewed in hotel room light -- are completely NOT what I needed to bring. My feet hurt. Moving hurts. Thinking hurts.
Aside from all of that and the cotton-for-brain-matter day I've had so far, I think we'll be ready to fly by tomorrow.
Austin here we come! Thanks, QUMANA!
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