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| Effin'-a sea bag. |
You folded your uniforms, put 'em in your sea bag, tossed in socks, skivvies, toothbrush and razor, and you were done. Okay, maybe the socks went in first, uniforms last. The point is, you could do this with one hand while holding a Budweiser in the other, and when the Bud was done, so was the packing.
That was then, this is now. Yesterday, I started packing so I can get out of here tomorrow. I spent a half hour trying to decide how many shirts I needed; I'll be gone for eight days, but I'll want to change into nicer clothing for the evening functions. But I could wear the Friday-night shirt again the following day, and who cares what I wear for the trip back home? And short sleeves are great, but I'm going to an evening Brewers game, and it might get chilly. So another long-sleeved shirt goes into the mix.
In other words, I spent yesterday picking out a stack of shirts. Today, I'll do the pants. This could take all day, as I need trousers that (a) aren't torn or ragged and (b) fit.
Not so sure I'll get out tomorrow after all.
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