Pack ratism

We've got a tie when trying to name the most miserable, torturous, masochistic  part of returning home from vacation.

Is it,

A) Looking at  this upcoming  week's warm and sunny forecast with calm waves and dry grounds, when a vacationer can wear  clothes that never get damp from all the constant moisture in the air?

Or is it,,

😎 Unpacking those  damp-ish  clothes, realizing you never got to reap the benefits of that dampness, as  you would have if  they're still slightly wet from all that pool and ocean time you enjoyed all week, where drying them on the balcony with the gorgeous views didn't quite suffice?

 Where, despite losing your mind  and the angry French woman's petite-sized orange tee shirt,  you did NOT lose that bottle of Woolite after all, tucked away in a forgotten, meshed  suitcase compartment, which  opened just enough to spill all over... what was left of dry clothing?

Or is it

C) when you unpack and you realize what a  pack rack you actually are, despite denying you're said pack rat for two decades, and then realizing you have coconut scented body lotion   in another  hidden meshed  compartment that expired in 2003.

Oh." you say to yourself.."Let's just tidy up a bit. "let's just toss expired things from these multiple compartments and let's.... wait!!...really??  I had thirteen mini toothpaste tubes???!! Huh!   Would you look at that!"

Two hours later, you're drenched in sweat and tossing every freebie you got from every vacation, wondering if dental floss expires, wondering if mini mouthwashes from 1998 are now toxic, wondering how you ever let it get this bad in the first place.

We uncovered  bags filled with..I kid you not.. bags. Plastic bags. Sandwich baggies.  Bags and bags and bags filled with bags, like the  Russian Nesting Dolls of Zip-Lock

"Of course I saved all those decorative soaps, " I say to Jim.  "You never know when you're going to need them!"

"Which is why your suitcase weighs more than I do," he answers,  " and I DO know when you're going to need them, which is..never.  You're NEVER going to need tiny soaps that smell bad and look like  gangrened  scallops", he pauses, "even if you COULD get the cellophane off, which I assure you..you couldn't because..no one can, you will NEVER need them " and.. he's right.

I. Am. A. Pack. Rat.

An effin' scary one, that would make everyone on staff of a popular hoarders' show quit their jobs in disgust if they had to deal with me.

I started to transfer everything that was a duplicate or triplicate from the luggage into the hall closet, when I realized the hall closet looked like it had been through Hurricane Katrina.

We found full bottles of our twenty eight year old's untouched baby shampoo,  and enough dental floss when, woven together, could make a garment to flatteringly fit  your average water buffalo.

  Tissue packs and travel sized mouthwash and near empty cans of expired sunscreen and something unidentifiable that Jim swore was a dildo but I countered with "that's NOT what that is. I'd never keep a valuable in an overstuffed hall closet"

(It's anyone's guess as to what it actually  was)

Expired meds..used razors with hair that I told Jim would be necessary as DNA evidence for whoever kills the other one first for creating this monster closet to begin with.

(It was me.  It was obviously all  me, the non-hoarder)

The good news is the closet is now organized, and my luggage can breathe new life, as it's at least  twelve pounds lighter.

(Until the next trip, when I think I have to stock up on everything  all again)

The bad news is: 

 I'm jelly AF! 

 We ALMOST chose THIS week to go to Cancun..with a brilliant forecast, and where the "coffee trivia" music  games would all be Elton John or Barbra Streisand songs, or, as a bonus:

"Name all the unnecessary  toiletry multiples in the Amsters'  hall closet, where old toothbrushes go to die"

Thanks to everyone who clicked the "like" button or commented on the blog..it keeps me going.

Now to catch up with Jimmy Kimmel...