I was listening to an interview with Jane Goodall on Talk of the Nation the other day, and she was talking about what kinds of things primatologists are observing in chimps these days -- like doing DNA analysis on feces to try to determine whether biological fathers have any special role with chimp babies. And I was thinking, if I had some kind of sciencey bush-lurking observer type in my apartment, they would be very puzzled about my packing techniques. "There seems to be some sort of ritual that requires her to carry one tiny object at a time over to an untidy pile and then scurry around and look for the next tiny object." "Hm, she gets up in the night and utters nonsense syllables as she suddenly roots in a pile for ziplock bags and adaptor plugs."
My packing technique is very slow release. I have all of these intentions about Organization and Segregated Piles and Having Exactly What I Need and No More in the Perfectly Sized Bag.
But then I get this. For a week.
I toss things on one at a time as I think of them, find them, take them out of the dryer, acquire them, print them. It's an ADDish approach that's like cutting one fingernail, replying to an email, cutting the second fingernail, making toast, cutting the third fingernail, going out to buy coffee. And so on.
In the pile? Lightish clothing, new hiking shoes, water tablets, two headlamps (power outages), knitting for the plane, travel meds, first aid kit, new pack, pile of "stuff" for the kids: balloons, frisbees, playdoh, k'nex, candy, magic markers. (Will buy footballs in town). N's much-better-than-mine camera. Still to add to the pile: two or three used laptops just acquired by generous donors (requires a lot of driving around this week); all of my clothes that are in the wash; books; paperwork.
I've been watching the most ungodly concoction of Africa-themed movies this week, about which I'll write in a different post. But, getting very jumpy with excitement.