Dry Run

As I was going to be on the road visiting friends in Boston and upstate New York for 10 days, I thought it would be a good idea to give my packing a dry run. (Translation: I need to practice getting all the damn straps to connect to the right buckles!) So I laid out the clothes I plan to take with me for next year (minus the full length black gown for the Met, of course), surveyed them (not too bad, although I wish I had some more exciting, non-‘cotton kills’ shirts), and shoved them into the backpack. I also shoved in a down pillow, as I’m kind of persnickety (yes me, persnickety… hard to believe) about my pillows. I decided not to go whole hog on this trip and pack things like the binoculars and water purifier. (I figured that the water in Ithaca is probably okay… although some of those Cornell grads are a bit iffy.) I’ll save that packing fun for later.

Everything was going well and I was feeling pretty good until I got to the sorting and packing of my toiletries kit. I pulled all of my products from the various places I had them stashed: my shelf in the bathroom, the top shelf in the bathroom, the closet, the ziplock bag which contained random bits from school. Now, those of you who know me well know a couple of things about me: 1) I don’t do my hair. Doing my hair involves combing it, and maybe putting in an elastic. That’s it. 2) I don’t wear make-up. Not even on dates (if I can remember back that far!). The only time I wear make-up is if I’m going to the opera or symphony, and then only if I’m in the mood. And when I do, it is a little mascara and eyeliner, and that’s it. 3) I don’t believe in excessive hygiene. I’m definitely not an every day kind of showerer. Or every other day. Or every third day in the winter when it is cold. I don’t get that dirty, and I am more offended by synthetic, flowery smells (scented candles!!!) than normal human scents (some of you may refer to this as body odor, but whatever). (Hmmmm, there was the year that the majority of the teacher gifts I got at Christmas were scented candles and soap. Maybe that year I only bathed every couple of weeks…)

Given this, I was appalled to see how much stuff I had in the toiletries department! How in the world could this be? I started to have a little panic attack. Now that I have some distance from that moment, I am thinking that it is less that I am a narcissistic preener (narcissistic, yes; preener, no), and more that my own personal brand of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, for those of you who don’t have children, students, siblings or spouses affected with this) manifests itself in not being able to throw away a bottle of anything until it is absolutely finished. (The liquor cupboard at home drives me nuts, and makes me wish I drank more, just so I could finish off those blasted three bottles of Crème de Menthe. Where do they come from???) So I have about five bottles/tubes/tins of lotion that various people left or gave me over the years. Ditto on shampoo. (When my hair was really short, I didn’t buy shampoo for about two years, because I just finished off other people’s bottles. Plus, as I stated above, I only washed my hair a couple times a week.)

Clearly I don’t need to practice how to get my backpack clicked, but rather I should spend my time bathing thrice a day for the next month, so I can use up all the little bottles and have a clean slate (and ridiculously clean body). Then I will have space in my sack for more important things… like cute little bottles of Crème de Cacao.