Object Writing: Pack

With a lazy heave, the flattened crumple of bag I had dumped unceremoniously at the top of my cupboard is dragged from hibernation. Upon inspection it appears to have collected a trophy of spiders and dust quickly ejected from their home. The roof opens to receive a deposit of carefully selected clothing, an array of jumpers, shirts and pants and a pair of underwear for each day, plus one, a habit impossible to shake. Small leaning towers of clothes are assembled beside the bag as inventory is taken to ensure no man is forgotten. A black charger cable is wrapped and waiting alongside an ambitious three pairs of shoes, of which one will be worn. The delicate operation of lowering the clothes by organised pile into the bag, sorted by category and space requirements, is tickled with the irony that upon first opening they will be scattered into a mess of laundry and become like finding that particular orange leaf in a pile of raked leaves. I step back and feel the ache of feet that have stood for too long and feel the tremor behind my sternum begging me to take inventory again, a knowing something has been forgotten. The tremor leaves my head in shambles, a scatterbrain trying to take stock with double vision and vertigo with a pair of vacant eyes and heavy lids....

Oh the glory of packing for a trip. How glamorous! Haha.

Favourite lines: trophy of spiders and dust; tremor behind my sternum, scatterbrain trying to take stock with double vision and vertigo...