I tend to panic when it comes to packing. Maybe it has something to do with the heat wave I encountered in Seattle, when I had only packed for cold and wet. Or the Palms Springs trip with almost flooding rain when I was expecting (and packed for) a warm week by the pool.
Whatever the reason, when I pull out the suitcase I suddenly have the need to shove a pair of shoes for everyday I'm gone, with an extra pair 'just in case' and an outfit for any conceivable occasion (including spontaneous car repairs or formal dinners. Neither of which has ever actually happened on vacation)
The over packing problem extends to reading material. Because what if everyone I'm visiting with suddenly decides to go horse back riding, only I'm allergic to horses, so I'd have time to fill, and I'm almost done with the book I'm reading so I clearly need to bring an extra one with me. And what if it turns out I don't really like that one, I better bring three. And what if everyone decides to watch football all afternoon? I don't like football, so I'll end up reading, so I better bring four.
Usually this type of thinking just means I've got reading material to double my suitcase weight. But a couple of months back I suddenly found myself going on an unexpected trip, lacking the time to go to the library or local bookstore to load up on books. Fortunately for me I have the world's greatest neighbor, who in addition to being an almost endless source of snacks, also has a vast collection of books I haven't read yet. So one slightly panicked phone call later I had a comforting pile of books stashed in my duffle bag. Which due to the shortness of the trip, and the total absence of horse back riding or televised football I didn't have a chance to read.
But I've been working my way through the pile, and that is how I came to read the Love Wife.
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