The Art of Packing

Packing is the singularly worst experience you can go through. Never before have so many scraps of paper meant so much to so few. (sorry Winston) Perhaps the worst part about packing is the essential two phase split that it invloves - the night before, and the morning after. Like with many things in life, one can go with full gusto the night before, but it is the morning after that matters more.

My personal problem is related to two things - the toothbrush and the shoe. The problem with the former is that one can never pack it till the morning after - and one does tend to forget it. It is not a nice feeling to realize in the middle of your train/plane journey that your toothbrush is currently talking behind your back with the cistern back home (or something more literary sounding).


The shoe is perhaps the most unpackable thing engineered by mankind. When one at last feels contentment about having managed to stuff all your clothes into the bag, it is quickly shattered when you walk by your shoe rack. How on Earth do you pack it? It is in this matter that I do not envy women, who, in my opinion, possess too many shoes anyway (sneakers, formal shoes and floaters, and you should be good to go - anyway, to each his/her own).