Hi, I'm The Short Jewish Gal

Oh, Peg, you inspire me not to do so many things.

... and I wrote "The I Hate To Pack Book" for people like me who hate to pack.  I hate it so much that if I could hire someone to pack for me, I'd do it in a jiffy.  Fact is, I've hated to pack since I was a little girl going on an overnight to visit my granny in the Fairfax District.  There's just nothing fun about deciding what to bring and what to leave at home, which explains why I tend to procrastinate.  Shucks, I'd do just about anything to get out of packing. I'd rather do 18 loads of laundry. I'd rather clean the toilet and mop the kitchen floor with Spic n' Span.  I just hate to pack.  I hate it.  I really do.  I hate it so much I have to take little tiny baby steps to accomplish what most folks would do in 20 minutes or less.



So here's how it usually plays out.  First thing I do is stare up at the suitcase in the closet.  It's too dang high on the shelf.  I'll never reach it, not in a million years.  Eventually, I ask my husband, Mr. Short Jewish Gal, to get the darn nuisance down for me.  He's always much obliged to help.  His momma raised him right.  Next thing I do is stare at the suitcase on the floor for a couple days, till I work up the courage to unzip it.  And then, about a day or two later, I crawl into the closet and rest my tired bones on a big pile of stuff I never got around to hanging up.  Then I flip over on my back and stare up at my clothes and wait for inspiration.  But nothing comes.

That's when I call up Carla.  She hates to pack almost as much as I do.  "What should I bring on my trip?" I ask, and Carla sets me straight.  Stick with black and white. That's her motto.  Sounds simple, but it takes a while to register with me, so I make Carla repeat it a few hundred times, just to delay the inevitable.

By now, the limo's pulling up to take us to the airport, and that's my cue to get packing, while my husband,  Mr. Short Jewish Gal, paces around downstairs, and begs me to hurry up, we're going to miss the plane.  "We're not going to miss anything, cool your jets, mister, I'm almost done." And off we go to the LAX, right on time, as usual.  Well, thanks for listening, folks.  I may hate to pack, but I do like to travel.