Packing and Life

I’m a great packer. I can fit a lot of things in a small space. But when our family goes anywhere, whether it’s for the weekend or our week long vacation, it is my husband who packs the car.

My packing ability comes in handy when we have parties or other get-togethers in our home where we are feeding any number of people greater than just our immediate family. The fridge is always busting at the seams but I am always able to move and adjust and finagle things until the door shuts and everything that needs to be refrigerated is cooling nicely.

Just last night my husband was wrestling with the items in the fridge. He’d moved something and was having a hard time fitting things back in so that the door would close. I gently nudged him out of the way, moved two items around and easily fit them in so that the door would close. I felt an odd swell of satisfaction at my packing prowess.

I think I learned to fit many things in a small space in high school. My then-boyfriend and I had a rocky relationship at best. When we had a bad fight, we’d break up, which necessitated me packing up my belongings from our small apartment and fitting them in my small 2-seater MR2. In all honesty after the first time or two I had the packing down to a science. I could fit my shelves, trinkets, pillows, clothes, cookware, what have you all into that tiny trunk, the space behind the seats, the passenger seat. Things would be crammed under the seats, up to the windows, above the headrest. I was a determined woman those nights, equally determined to retain all of my things, as I was that I would leave the jerk behind me.

Of course I went back often. I never said I was smart.

When I met my husband, I was reluctant to cohabitate (I know! I’m a total heathen right?) but discovered that I didn’t need to worry. I moved in about 4 months into our relationship and never once felt the need to move back out. We have our annoyances, but for the most part we know that these are small things, not worth arguing about. We often use humor to get over those grumpy patches when we’d just as soon kick one another in the butt as give one another a kiss.

I hope that my marriage will last until death we do part. I think it will, because we are both stubborn and we always seem to come back around to where we need to be.

Most of all, I am happy that my packing abilities are used for good things these days.