I can't imagine packing ever being a relaxing event. I find it rife with questions. How hot? How cold? Do I take ,or leave, how many socks, do I need calamine lotion, thirty sunscreen, my rain pants? and on and on it goes. Several years ago I created a packing list and that list multiplied until every small probability had an item. The list reminds me of a Biblical begat list.
The calamine lotion begat the bug spray begat the wide brimmed hat begat the long sleeve shirt begat the long pants, and on and on. The list extended itself onto a second page and then into two columns on each page which turned into three columns and then four.
How many books? A book for each mood. Quiet books, contemplative books, summer mysteries, tomes for the end of the summer and beginning of fall, books for a course, books for a book club.
I sit here wondering if I remembered everything. I sit here thinking the car looks as if we were leaving on an expedition. What can I remove from the list? Instead I add a warmer jacket and two more books—slim books, quick reads.