Packing with Russian Dolls

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No matter how cool the nestable Russian dolls may be, I always feel a little let down when I get to the last tiny doll that does not open. I'm not sure what I expect, I still remember learning about equations that represent a value as it approaches zero. I should know that in this sort of situation, it never becomes zero.

Which should give me a measure of comfort as I look at my last remaining bag.

I think the "packing with a Russian doll" progression began sometime back in May, when I packed all my things into two Buicks and a minivan. I streamlined down to just one Buick which had enough room for me in the driver seat as long as I kept my purse in my lap. Then I could get it all in the trunk.

Now all I have with me fits into a carry-on bag that doesn't even have its extension zipper let out.

I gave some thought to the possibility of losing my luggage when I was packing. But I've enjoyed a measure of simplicity in the last few months, due in great part to learning to do without and innovate rather than to have access to every possible eventuality. Believe me, if you had to haul around the entire contents of your closet every week or two, you, too, might question why you need more than three changes of clothing.

But now, when my clothing and personal hygiene options consist of what I have worn for the last 36 hours and what could fit in a quart-sized zip-top bag, it might be time to reconsider this whole nomadic simplicity.

Or maybe it's time to go buy that $300 bikini.

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