Do I really need 
six extra pairs of under-
wear?  You never know.

Frantically ask-
ing, “Who’s got the Advil?” when
it’s in my suitcase.

Choosing the correct 
tee for each day is a matt-
er of life or death.

Scrambling from bathroom
to bedroom and back again,
my heroic quest.

The ghost of forgett-
ing haunts me, though I
(might have) remembered all.

Zip and lock suitcase
bulging with toiletries and
spare outfits.  There’s no

turning back now.  Bags
roll down the hallway, a par-
ade of squeaky wheels.