Cosmetic and Other Bags

This seasonal closet culling wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have so many cosmetic bags jammed between the shoe boxes at the top of my closet. It’s a game of Jenga as I pull out a shoebox, hold my breath and wait for the avalanche of bags to bounce off my head and shoulders onto the floor.

Are we world travelers? Nope. Far from it. So why do I hold onto these little travel bags? Because I know, as soon as I throw them away, I’ll need one.  That’s the Law of Culling.

Don’t believe me? Try getting rid of something you think you don’t need anymore. Guaranteed, within a few weeks, you will need it.

During a recent culling of the crawlspace behind our bedroom, my husband pulled out ten old backpacks. “What do we need all these backpacks for?” he asked, as he tossed them into a garbage bag. “The kids are gone. Why are we still holding onto this stuff?” The next month he was called on a business trip and needed a small carry-on for the plane. I found him crawling behind the bedroom wall, muttering to himself as he searched in vain. “I must have saved one! Why didn’t I save one?”

In that crawlspace clean out, we also tossed a bunch of old sheets that we thought we didn’t need anymore. And then we did. The cabin we were renting for a week in the summer did not provide sheets.

I rescued my maternity clothes from a bag he was filling for our local thrift shop. It didn’t matter that I was on the cusp of menopause at the time. I wasn’t taking any chances by tempting fate or the Law of Culling. I knew if I got rid of those dowdy maternity clothes, I would need them in the near future.

And that’s why I keep those travel bags jammed between the shoe boxes. I have learned through the years that once I toss something in the trash, I need it. I don’t want to need those travel bags because I don’t want to travel. I don’t like to travel.

I hate long car trips. When I’m the passenger, I eat too many junk snacks to stay awake. I must stay awake to call out the lanes we should be in for upcoming exits. Otherwise, my husband, who daydreams while he’s driving, will take the wrong exit and we will be in the car even longer than necessary.

When I’m the driver, I’m either bored to death – closing one eye at a time to rest,

or I’m white-knuckle-heart racing-terrified when a tractor trailer comes plowing up behind me at breakneck speed.  

Cruises don’t entice me either.  Anyone who has ever been seasick knows the truth behind the saying: There are worse things than death.

As far as air travel goes, I have such a fear of flying that I become airsick before the plane even takes off. It never made sense to me how that big machine, packed with all that luggage and all those people, could defy the law of gravity. My anxiety reaches a peak when I sense that the wheels are no longer touching the ground. I study the faces around me, swallowing hard to fight back the panic and nausea, thinking, these will be the last faces I see as the plane falls into the ocean!

No, I won’t tempt The Law of Culling by throwing out all those travel bags. They are my assurance that there won’t be any airline tickets purchased, cruise plans made or long road trips mapped out in the near future.