I need to get a snack. I’m starving here. Breakfast didn’t cut it this morning. And I ate it at eleven, so I can’t justifiably go out for lunch already. Maybe I’ll have lunch at like three, three-thirty. Dinner? Close to eleven. I’ve got to start getting breakfast ready a little earlier. Lately I’ve been getting into this bad habit of going to the deli and buying those giant black-and-white cookies as a snack. Sometimes like twice a day. That amount of sugar can’t be good, for anybody, I don’t care how much running around I do to try and justify that much snacking. Also, it can add up to be an expensive habit. Cookies. Sugar. Eggs. Black and white frosting. Three fifty please. Here you go sir. See you in five minutes.
I need to iron my pants. Whenever I’m done with work I always just put them in my backpack and change into my jeans. Fine, but then I leave them in there, all night, overnight, and then I’m running late for work the next day, I just grab my backpack, I haven’t even touched it since I threw it on the ground when I walked in. That’s OK. I mean, it’s not great, not ideal, but it’s all right. I have this patented method of putting my clothes in my backpack. Instead of folding my clothes, I stretch them out slightly and then roll them up. That way I just unroll them the next day, in case I forget to unpack everything when I get home, which I always do, another bad habit, just like the bad eleven o’clock breakfast habit. By the way, it’s not really patented, the roll up method, or maybe it is, I don’t know, but it’s not patented by me. I just always say it’s patented, like I invented it, because at least one person is going to be like, “You didn’t invent that!” and then I’m like, in my head, bingo. And I get into a whole fake argument with this person about how, yes, I did invent it, how they must have heard about it from me.
I need to stop making up stories, running my mouth, talking about total nonsense with random people, drawing people into fake arguments about the Rob G. patented roll-up method for folding your clothes. There’s always that moment like three quarters of the way into one of these fights, when voices start to rise in volume slightly, and the corners of my mouth start to similarly rise, like I can’t fake it anymore, like it’s now obvious that I’m just talking for the sake of talking, wasting everybody else’s time.
I need to clarify, however, that even if I haven’t necessarily invented the roll-up method, I’ve definitely made it my own, incorporated it into my life to such a degree that, if these kind of things were to be measured, I’d easily be one of the top ten, top five even, on a list of people that most exemplify, or most take advantage of this roll up folding. I’m not kidding. Like I can pack for a whole week’s vacation in a tiny duffel bag. The trick is to roll up everything, underwear, socks – individual socks rolled up individually – all of those small things that you’d normally not even bother to fold up at all, “They’re so small. Why fold them up? They barely take up any space at all.” Because all of that little space adds up. The only thing is, if you’re flying, I’ve often time run into the problem of, because I’ve packed so efficiently, utilized basically every available square inch of space, my luggage winds up weighing in much heavier than most other travelers’. And so, one, TSA might get suspicious, “What do you have in there?” and they’ll insist on going through everything, unrolling everything, “Why is everything rolled up like this?” and then, I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist, I’ll say something like, “Oh that? It’s the Rob G. patented innovative roll-up method for packing,” and maybe a group of TSA agents will have formed, most of them kind of bored, wishing they didn’t have to look through everyone’s luggage, but one of them take the bait, might be like, “Are you kidding me? You didn’t invent that,” and I’ll be like, Yahtzee, in my head anyway, going through the whole non-argument, and then having to reroll everything, every sock, every shirt, all while I’m just trying to get through security, make it to my gate in time, I had such a late start, too late a breakfast, and why did I stop for a cookie on the way in, and, two, (remember I said “one” earlier? This is two) you have this densely packed duffel bag, what if it winds up weighing more than the fifty pounds the airline allows each traveler to include with the price of their ticket? It’s not unreasonable to imagine a heavy bag, an even heavier heavy bag surcharge.
I need to start packing smarter for my vacations. I’ve become so accustomed to rolling everything up, to fitting everything into such a small space, to being able take everything with me, that it’s too much, packing takes forever. I wind up with too many clothes for what’s supposed to be a relaxing getaway. Note to self: next time, less clothes. Maybe regularly folded clothes. Maybe. Probably not. Just less clothes. Or a smaller duffel bag? Note to self within note to self: look up prices on smallish duffel bags.
I still need a snack. I should really get some fruit. Something healthy, some calories. Fruit roll-ups? No, regular fruit. I need to get off this roll-up thing.