Cue the frantic, last-minute escapades to the drugstore and the mental teeter-tottering of whether to bring that sequined top or ditch it. My mom may be a seasoned veteran when it comes to beating the international flight stress and packing merely minutes before a business trip to Brazil or Paris, but me? Not a chance. One of the oh-so many nouns I would admittedly (yet regrettably) associate myself with is: procrastinator, OCD freak with unnecessary lists, and hoarder.
Okay, okay. You won't catch me hoarding even the last tissue I used (gross), but you'll find me keeping every little memoir of some random memory that doesn't need to be remembered. Case in point, my tutti-frutti-esque laptop case adorned with pinstripes that are reminiscent of the 60's. And I'm not talking about the retro, kitschy-chic wallpaper patterns. But underneath the neoprene is the memento of my dad's spontaneous gift which we rarely does.
So whenever I pack--even if it's for a 2-day trip to Palm Springs, you'll see me helplessly limping to the car with a mountain of luggage bags. Yes, I am that person. With that said, I'm making an implicit pact to forcibly squeeze my entire life into one international bag--and a carry on. Maybe, I'm exaggerating but studying abroad and going to Europe for the first time, mind you, is going to require a lot of self-restraint.
Don't even get me started about the unpacking part. But enough of my persistent whining, I'm starting to mentally prepare myself of all the food I can get my hands on. Travelling = food tasting. Honestly, what better way to love a country than through my stomach?
Up next on the list of things to do:
Understand the slang. Brolly = umbrella. Crisps= Chips. Chips = fries. Flat = Apartment.
But I already knew that last one thanks to my addictive obsession with Misfits on Hulu. Ugh, Robert Sheehan's curls though.
I think that was a good last sentence to end on, don't you think?