Day 102. Be Ruthless

Today has brought with it an over-abundance of choices.  And, as a result, I find myself in a quandary.  There are so many “P”-words I could have chosen to write about this morning.  Passion.  Persuasion.  Paris.  Pashminas.  Parrots.  Photography.  And that’s just for starters.

But, in the end, I’ve decided to talk about packing.  At first blush, not nearly as sexy a topic as the others.  But I think I’ve got a serious case of wanderlust going on; and that’s probably why I’ve got luggage on my mind.

Over the years I’ve become quite good at editing out the things I know I really don’t need to take.  I’ve learned how to be brutal.  Why not share, then, I thought to myself.

So packing it is.

I wasn’t always a good packer.  When I first started travelling (as an adult), I essentially didn’t want to leave anything at Continue reading

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Day 16. Hiding Places

The last time I wrote about Bartlett, I briefly mentioned his fondness for box springs; and said I’d elaborate at another time.  Well, that time has come.

He was out of the guest room, roaming free in the house.  I honestly can’t remember how long I’d had him at this point — I’d say probably no less than six months and no more than a year.  I was going away on a business trip and had my suitcase on the bed, so I could pack.  I know cats don’t like it when we pack.  I have a friend in Montreal whose Persian would pee in her luggage each and every time she was taking a trip.

So I wasn’t in the least surprised when all three of my cats (Zazu, Sundance and Bartlett) were full of nervous energy — jumping on the bed, off the bed, up and down like bouncing balls.  Climbing into the suitcase and refusing to get out again.  Burrowing under whatever clothing I was putting in.  I’d get rid of one cat and the other would take over.  When I opened drawers to get stuff out, a cat would jump in, making a holy mess.  Frustrated, I decided to let them have their fun and get it out of their systems, while I had some dinner.

Only an idiot trys to outsmart a cat.  Remember this.

Dinner over, I went to put the garbage out — I’d forgotten the next day was pick-up.  Then I hauled my sorry ass back upstairs to my bedroom, to finish packing.  Zazu was fast asleep in my suitcase.  Sundance was curled up on a pile of clothes, that were laying on my bed, waiting to be packed.  Bartlett was nowhere to be found.  Thinking nothing of it at first, I got on with the task at hand.

By the time I got to my toiletries, he’d been MIA for a while.  Too quiet.  Too long.

I looked in every drawer in my bedroom.  I looked under the bed — not just looked, by the way.  I got down on the floor, on my stomach, and literally slid under the Continue reading