Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
As many of you know, I just got home from the Doodle Cruise. The month leading up to any big trip is usually a nightmare for me, because I am the world’s worst packer. I admire those people who can throw it all in a suitcase the night before a trip and even more if they can get it all in one carry on bag. My packing goes somewhat differently and it begins with locating the suitcases and bringing them all upstairs. I hate to do this too soon, because from the moment Fudge sees those suitcases she knows something is up. I would like to say she is the most intuitive dog in the world, but she could also be picking up on the not so silent signals John and I send back and forth to each other….”please tell me you are not bringing all that luggage…ok, I won’t tell you…it’s too much….can you go downstairs and find that bigger suitcase?…….do you plan on hiring some pack mules to carry all this around?….no, just one annoying j******!” This trip, Fudge added something new to her “make you feel guilty” repertoire and would hug the wall farthest away from the room where I was packing and slink by the door whenever she had to pass by it. Up until that point, she seemed content to stare at me every chance she got, with a look on her face that clearly said, “I can’t believe you are leaving me again, you heartless woman!”
So, anyway, there I was night after night before the cruise, sorting through clothes and shoes, with a slinking dog trying to silently suggest I should just stay home. Oh, and believe me, at times I thought Fudge may be right, as every possible clothes scenario flashed through my head. I brought a coat, just in case winter decided to hit early, enough black pants to dress every high school band member in my town, enough shoes that if the boat tipped and drenched the ones I was wearing I would have that covered, and enough underwear and bras that you might have thought I was planning on breaking the record for the longest space station stay, which is currently around 14 months. Meanwhile, John had gathered up his clothes that he wanted to bring without factoring in the daily spillage that occurs every single time he eats. I actually had set new shirts aside and had forbidden him from wearing them until the cruise, so he would have a few shirts without stains on them. I really think it was just about our first meal out when another cruise member suggested we circle the food he drops on himself and label it appropriately “Omelet, Key West Breakfast,” as a kind of strange way to chronicle where he had been and the food he had sampled. Knowing his propensity to get stuff on his shirts, of course I had to add more to his pile of clothes. Even with my additions, by the end of the week he had to start wearing some of the T-shirts we had purchased on this trip.
I, on the other hand, could never have worn all the clothes I brought and even on the last day, if I layered my remaining clothes in a thinly veiled attempt to say, “I told you I did not over pack,” I would have looked like I was wearing one of those inflatable Sumo wrestling costumes.
I am not saying I could not have done it, but rather it would have been cumbersome going down the narrow hallways. Plus, I have also noticed that Carnival cruise goers are not the politest group of people around and I am sure my “excuse me” would have been met with “move, lard ass,” as I tried to pass by some of the other travelers in the aisles. Long story short, I overpacked and if I didn’t believe my handy dandy scale I keep for just such occasions or my husband, I was finally convinced carting everything to and from the car. Don’t bother making suggestions either for a more efficient way of packing because I won’t listen. Believe me, others have tried and failed, and if I can convince John we need a car top carrier for trips, then all I need to know is if anyone knows of a great device, other than a wheelbarrow, designed to carry large amounts of luggage through the airport.
The irony of this whole situation is that after months of planning what to bring and meticulously ironing and packing our clothes, the airport LOST ONE OF OUR BAGS. Nothing says, “you are screwed,” like a revolving airport conveyor belt without one of your bags on it.
I would like to say I handled this situation with grace and finesse, but John will tell you my head spun 360 degrees on my neck, although I did not spew anything green, as I turned to him and screamed, “WHERE IS THE OTHER BAG?”
John, proving yet again, that he knows so little about me, even after 35 years of marriage, said the one thing that seems to always have the opposite effect on me, “calm down!” Those words make me want to reach out and choke the nearest person, which is almost always the person who says them. At that point, I was near tears and John sensing a complete meltdown was looming, opened the other bag and said, “I think they lost my bag,” and instantly the world turned bright again.
The airline was a huge help and I especially liked the part where they said they had no idea where our luggage was and they would only know where it had been when it showed up. Apparently, all that scanning and checking in of your bags is just for kicks. The next day we called baggage claims from our hotel and they still did not know where our luggage was, but five minutes after hanging up, called back to say they found it. I wanted to point out that they seemed to have a great system going there, but I wisely kept my mouth shut and our bag eventually made it over to the hotel.
On the way home, I added a bag to accommodate our purchases and had my first item confiscated by airport security…my hairspray. The attendant pulled me over to another area and examined my hairspray and then said, “ma’am, are you aware of the 3 ounce rule?” I wanted to say back in an equally haughty voice, “ma’am, does it look like I am a packing extraordinaire?” but John had already given me a lecture about joking with the security, so I just watched as she threw it away. It was my good stuff, too, so I bet she took it home with her later. The best thing about coming home was seeing Fudge and Vern in the window when we drove up the driveway. I love seeing Hayley, too, but she doesn’t wag her tail or wiggle with excitement. In fact, she usually takes care of the warm and fuzzy feelings I have by announcing something like, “the cat peed in front of the washing machine on Tuesday,” even though I have told her before, unless it involves the police and a disorderly conduct complaint, we don’t need to know everything that happened while we were gone. Fudge wanted me to take her right back to our bed and I know she doesn’t rest easy when we are gone. She did not leave my side for two days. Vern has wagged his tail continuously since we got home. Now, all I have to do is unpack and put everything away, which to an overpacker, is easier said than done.
Comment
Janie, Seriously, I brought 4 pairs. What was I thinking?? LOL My unpacking is not done. Well, I have unpacked everything, but it is now sitting on top of the bed in my spare room.
Lori, Thank you!
Carol, LOL...thank you! Glad to know I am in good company :)
Nicky, I loved the hat you wore on the cruise. You are so stylish!!
F, It was worth it!
Jennifer, Thank you!
Ronna, No one can wear a cow hat like you :)
You made me smile with all those black pants! I remember having to go away for a long weekend to a wedding and my DH wanted to just take carry on bags. This includes a dress and his suit! I hope your unpacking is done and you can just spoil F and V. I love how Fudge wanted you to go to bed with her so she could sleep! ♡
I hate packing but I love your blog!
I could almost feel that transformation from Exorcist Girl to Happy Sunshine. My name is Carol. I am an Overpacker. Gosh, I feel better just admitting it!
Loved your blog Laurie!
Hey Laurie! Glad to hear the cruise was a hit!
I just wanted to say that the picture of Fudge is priceless. She's got beauty AND brains!!!
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