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Ziplocs earn their place in history

I hate packing. I love traveling; I just don’t like getting ready. I especially don’t like unpacking. The ol’ undies lose that Downy-fresh scent after a day in the sun.

With this dislike of unpacking, it’s not exactly my first order of business upon my return home. After all, I’m usually exhausted by the travel and anxious to get reacquainted with my girls (wife Kathy, and Maggie the yellow lab.) There’s news to catch up on – most of it good, but there are concerns. We are all very worried about that new show: “The World’s Greatest Dog.” Maggie’s invitation has somehow gotten lost. And the city has sent out new guidelines on how tall your grass can be.

See how easy it is to forget about unpacking.

Anyway … my bags have on occasion been allowed to ripen a few days before the seals are broken. Kathy’s actions have spoken louder than her words with regard to which of us will perform this task. She doesn’t do packing either. She seems to remember some long-ago incident where I allegedly commented on something that had been forgotten. I don’t quite remember that, but my memory is still what it has always been: convenient.

But it’s never very long before the unpacking, because I always seem to be heading right back out. And being the creature of habit that I am, I’m typically just washing all the same stuff. (Kathy might have a rebuttal on who does the bulk of this chore, but don’t pay any attention to her.) I’m sure the guys in the crew think I just have the six shirts. I comfort myself by surmising that those who regularly watch Bass Edge think that Aaron only has one shirt.

I’ve taken some of the edge off of packing by developing a bit of a system. Everything goes right back in the same place, in the same bag. There is a travel belt that stays in the bag, and having drowned a few cell phones, there is now a dedicated charger with its own little compartment. I keep my meds and sunscreen in Ziploc bags and leave them in my bag.

I believe most folks ponder silly things, as I do, that don’t really matter much. That’s what I tell myself anyway. I often contemplate man’s greatest inventions. When engaging in this exercise, I typically defer to conventional wisdom by allowing such things as the wheel and printing press their rightful place in history. After 40 years in Texas, I reward air-conditioning with a lofty spot on this list. And I try to pay attention to other folks’ reactions when considering this issue. I have seen how some react to certain types of cosmetic surgery, but of course, not me. (And ignore any commentary Kathy might offer on this subject.)

No, these aren’t easy decisions, but I have come to the conclusion that Ziploc bags have earned their place among man’s greatest achievements. Like the Bass Edge crew, they are great organizers and waterproof. (Disregard any feed back Bass Edge management might provide here.)

There now. I feel good that this day has been so productive. I hate putting aside my pondering while I am on such a roll, but I have packing to do … and maybe a little unpacking.