Woes of a Suitcase Daughter

As a college student, I have two homes. One is fifteen minutes away from the University with three female roommates of similar ages, and the other is hour away with my first with three coed roommates of similar DNA. Now that the semester is over (and the last literature final is aced!) it is time to pack up my cloths and vacation to that second home I was telling you about.

To make sure I came home as soon as I could, my mother scheduled a groomer’s appointment for Maggie at 8am tomorrow morning. . . that may be part of another story for another time.

The idea of this blog post is packing. I hate packing. I’m a self-diagnosed OCD organizer, which means I can’t just throw some stuff in a bag and go. I have to analyze every item I might require over the next three weeks, calculating my future activities and the possible situation that may demand that item. Exhausting—yeah.

Writing this post (and the Friday morning USA “House” marathon) is keeping me sane. It also made me think about this movie I caught on HBO last week. Ever hear of Leap Year (2010)? It’s a cheesy chick-flick set in Ireland. The world won’t end if you don’t see it, but you’ll have a nice warm fuzzy feeling if you do.

Anyway, Amy Adams‘ life is out of perspective. Her new Irish beau, Matthew Goode, asks her what she would save if her apartment was burning. She doesn’t know.

I don’t really know either. Maggie, my adorable 18-month-old golden-doodle, would be first, second and third. But since she’ll come when I yell for her to chase me out of the burning apartment, I guess it’s a battle between my Baby-Mac and my iAwesome. Probably my Baby-Mac. Though I love my iAwesome, Baby-Mac has all my work saved to it.

Consequently, Maggie and Mac will be the last two things I pack up tomorrow morning.

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