Brat Pack

I know this has been mentioned ad nauseam, but I hate packing. Hate hate hate hate hate. It's a combination of my two least developed skill sets: thinking ahead and spatial reasoning; I always end up standing awkwardly in the middle of my room, staring at the floor, hoping the throbbing headache means my attempts to pack using only my mind are working (one day I will think "socks!" and the correct number of socks, not an odd number like last winter break, will magically float across my room and into the suitcase, I just know it!) . Will I need these stilettos? Does a coffeepot fit in a suitcase? These are all questions to which I do not yet have the answer. I finally bought some boots, a coat, and a backpack, but I honestly think I'm going to end up throwing underwear, a toothbrush, and Swedish dictionary in a suitcase and hoping for the best when I get there. The parental units implored me to make a packing list, but I keep getting distracted. Here's how it's gone so far:

This peach pie looked more delicious in real life, I promise.

Marie's amazing Mad Men paper dolls

Foreground: Zoe

Background: James River in Richmond

Madison's going away party. I feel nauseous just looking at these pictures. BLEH.

All signs point to me living out of a very small knapsack and peddling baked goods on the street for the rest of my life.