My life in bags
Today, I went through the arduous process that is the bane of so many late-teen-and-twenty-somethings’ existence: packing. (Second only, perhaps, to unpacking.) We are constantly in a flux, in and out of college semesters and internships. Within the past year, I’ve packed and unpacked my life six times.
I can imagine it’s similar to the process of filling out taxes, once you become a real adult with a stable income and tax write-offs and dependents. It’s so tedious — taxing, if you will — yet you really can’t avoid it. You just can’t. Unless you want to end up in Los Angeles without clothes for the summer, or in big-time debt to the IRS, respectively.
Anyway, I didn’t want to end up in Los Angeles without clothes for the summer, so, after a few hours of covering my head with a pillow, my preferred form of therapy, I faced my obligations and packed up. On Friday, I will begin a 30-hour road trip from Chicago to Los Angeles, with pit stops in Denver and Vegas.