Like a drunk packrat

First order of business: If you enjoy reading about marriage from a realistic and funny voice please go over to Kathleen at Project M. I found her blog a couple of weeks ago and I’m in love. Now back to regularly scheduled blogging…

I’m a horrible packer.

On my first day of kindergarten, for some reason, I ended up packing my own lunch. Do you know what I packed? I packed toys. Like the little toys from cereal boxes and Happy Meals. I guess I figured I’d bring the toy portion of the meal and someone else would provide the food.

Poor, hungry Marie

You can imagine the embarrassment when 5 year old Marie opens her Little Pony lunch box and pulls out various characters from the Bambi movie instead of a pb&j sandwich like everyone else. Agony.

My packing has not gotten any better with age. I’ll bring my bathing suit everywhere, yet forget my toothbrush. I pack athletic shoes but no socks. I’m addicted to bringing my college formal dress on nearly every trip because what if we need to make an unexpected appearance at a black-tie affair?? Yep, I’ll be prepared with my formal dress and athletic shoes. No socks.

My worst packing, however, came during a fight with Mark where I was leaving and never coming back and you can find me at Shelly’s when you’re ready to apologize to the President.


Yes. We’re still fighting about politics.

Months ago we ended up in a particularly heated debate where I decided that I was NOT going to spend another second in that house so I proceeded to “pack”.

I had never packed because of a fight before because normally when I got this upset I just went to my personal sanctuary, the McDonald’s down the street, and all I need there is a smile and $5 for the #12 meal.

I stood in our bedroom looking around for what I’d need on my vacation from married life.

A toothbrush? Well, we share the toothbrush. And that’s mean to steal the man’s toothbrush. I grabbed the bottle of mouthwash instead.

What about clothes? It was a week night, so I’d be going to work the next day. Pack work clothes, right? Not really. Instead, I grabbed a dress that I’d worn once. It’s just dressy enough that I’ve never worn it to work so, yes, that’s an awesome choice, you idiot Marie.

Well, I’m going to need to wear those heels with this dress. Grab the heels. And I’d better pack the other bra because there’s no way I’m going to fill out the top of this dress without some extra help. What kind of underwear should I pack???

Every decision to take one item led me to needing another one. The underwear reminded me about needing shower toiletries which reminded me that I’d need the straightening iron which made me wonder if it was going to rain the next day and should I bring a jacket?

As I stood there holding mouthwash, a too fancy for work dress, high heels, 3 days worth of underwear, my shampoo, conditioner, and a straightening iron I looked down and saw Omi looking up at me.


My cat. I needed to pack my cat.

You know how when you think a series of really crazy thoughts there is usually one so absurd that it wakes you up and you think, “What on earth am I thinking?”

Yeah. Packing the cat should have been that thought for me. Heck, my cat doesn’t even like me and would have a fit if I tried to take her anywhere. Unfortunately, all that thought really did was cause more stress because where am I going to put the kitty litter?

It wasn’t until I dropped the shampoo bottle for the third time that it occurred to me that this plan was, well, stupid. And that I’m a drama queen. And that I probably need to apologize to Mark for being a baby. And for stealing the mouthwash. And that he should probably thank God for my really crappy packing skills because they may have saved our relationship.

10 thoughts on “Like a drunk packrat

  1. Mrs. Smith says:

    has anyone told you lately that you are hilarious?

    Ha, thanks!

  2. Master Rebekah says:

    #1: YOU SHARE A TOOTHBRUSH? I can’t even talk about that.
    #2: I always pack way too much underwear too
    #3: Thanks for blogging! 🙂

    #1 – Yeah. We have a electric toothbrush and we switch the heads. THat’s so weird, right?
    #2 – I know! Underwear is the only thing I’m always concerned of not having enough of.
    #3 – Ha, you’re welcome 😀

  3. kathleenquiring says:

    Oh my goodness: a kindred spirit. I thought my packing-impairment was unique to me. My brain already associates sleeping in a hotel bed with sleeping in jeans, since that’s what I usually end up doing because I always forget pajamas. I’ve also brushed my teeth with toothpaste on my finger one too many times because I always forget my toothbrush. But I always have a book to read, in case I . . . get bored at Cedar Point?

    This post was hilarious. Athletic shoes and no socks? Sounds like my kind of suitcase.

    Thanks for the shout-out, by the way! You are too kind!

    Kathleen, you’re seriously one of my new favorites 😀 And you’re so right about the book at Cedar Point! I bring books everywhere and it never makes sense, but you never know when you’ll be able to catch a few pages in, right? Ha.

  4. Anita says:

    Hey, I’ve got that photo with The Prez too. Man, you don’t know how many times I felt like running away from home – meaning marriage. It just seemed like too much of a hassle — packing and thinking how long I was going to stay when I got where I was going, and where was I going? Didn’t want to go to my parents and get them, well especially my dad, all up in my business. What friend would I want to stay with — they don’t exactly live around the corner. So I’d end up staying home and just not talking to him until he apologized. Take care, A.

    You’re logic with where to go when you’re fighting is so spot on! I never want to go to my parents’ house because I don’t want them to think anything is SERIOUSLY wrong, so I always plan to either go to my friend Shelly’s house or McDonald’s. Both are awesome places.

  5. Veda says:

    I have done this many of times…even as a kid! I have a funny memory of myself packing a teddy bear and a blankie with intent to runaway but instead I hid in the closet waiting for someone to realize I was gone and miss me…

    I was in serious need of attention THAT day…more like everyday…hehe!!

    Aw, poor little kid Veda! And I think that’s where the source of a lot of the running away is for me, too, attention and “are you going to miss me?” 😀

  6. Michelle Ziegler Ashburn says:

    Very funny! I never pack. I just stand at the door telling him I am going to leave (because if he really cared about me he would not let me go to Panda Express by myself when I am upset).

    Marie, I appreciate posts like this one. You write little glimpses of real life. I think I would follow your blog even if I did not know you (provided I ever came across it.)

    And thanks for linking Project M. I just read a little, but I like what I have read.

    I know! She’s awesome, right?

    And your standing by the doorway sounds way more efficient. I have to pack and then unpack. A solid hour wasted 😀

  7. Connie Oates says:

    Toooo funny!!!! think I know what to get you for Christmas, just tell me your favorite color and I will have one under the tree. Oh darn that means I have to go dig out that sorry excuse of a tree, really everyone laughed at me the last time I used it. Hope you have better success at packing for Mexico.

    Oh, the packing for Mexico already has me in hives! I just know I’m going to forget something terrible important. And I don’t know how to express how excited/curious I am to find out what present could be inspired by this post… and my favorite color is red or blue 😀

  8. Linda says:

    You are so funny! I used to packed all the time and stayed with friends till your dad picked me up…then, when I get home, I start unpacking and he would tell me .. no dear, don’t bother to unpack your going to pack it again in a couple days.

    That’s so funny, and this is proof that I come by this behavior honestly 😀

  9. Secret Agent "CT" says:

    My worst threats to Thomas are:

    1. You are SO sleeping on the couch.

    If that doesn’t work, then I’ll go to the other bedroom to sleep. (I’m so not sleeping on the couch.) Then he always comes and gets into bed with me in the spare bedroom. This royally ticks me off. So, I go to our bedroom with the awesome bed and tell him to stay in the spare bedroom.

    Usually all of this is unneccessary though…Thomas knows when he has ticked me off and will summons himself to the couch without me even saying anything. lol

    My grandfather had that best line in regards to fights. He would always tell me that he and my grandmother never went to bed mad at one another…and those were some long nights! That’s an 80 year old’s way of saying they just stayed mad and never went to bed that night. lol I sure loved my Pa. I really miss his little jokes. 😦

    He and my grandmother also told me that they would never tell each other what to do. (Score in my book!!) However, they would request that the other not doing something because it would upset them. So the one wanting to do whatever had the choice of doing it or not. But they loved each other so much that they wouldn’t do whatever it was because they didn’t want to upset the other. Sweet, old people stuff. Right?

    Ha, I love it when you been married longer ladies have your men trained. That’s awesome.

  10. Rachel Darby says:

    Marie, I was having a really bad day, wrapped up in my drama queen self, and I just stumbled onto your blog via rambling around on facebook. I laughed so hard I started crying. You are truly talented. PLEASE keep posting!

    Aw, Rachel, you’re so sweet 😀 And you should definitely start a blog, especially as you start your wedding planning and whatnot. It’s fun to go back and read stories that I would have forgotten otherwise.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: