I am going to Atlanta tomorrow, for the Festival of Homies...um, Homiletics. The packing frenzy has commenced. I get absolutely neurotic about packing - not without reason, as I have a history of forgetting important and obvious things, like directions, pajamas, and socks. People make fun of my obsessive preparation for things, but I know myself, and a little excessive detail in advance is the only way I keep my head screwed on at all. I am, after all, the person who stuck the bulletin into the hymnal in the pulpit this morning, promptly forgot where I had put it, and skipped the reading of the psalm, until confused faces tipped me off that whatever I was doing was not what the bulletin said I should be doing.
Anyway, packing causes me trauma, in part because I'm sort of particular, and also because I'm just one of those people to whom strange things happen. If I bring the black flats, I'll want the black heels. If I choose the heels, a heel will break - even though I've never broken a heel in my life - and I'll wish I brought the flats. I hate carrying things through airports, but if I don't bring the full carry-on arsenal, I'll end up losing my bags and having no clothes at the Fest. And so on.
By the way, does it make sense to anyone else that I have to fly to Chicago to travel from New York to Atlanta?
Back to the packing now. With any luck, I will be at PRUMC tomorrow by 6:30pm without significant negative event.