Leaning my full weight across the body of the practical, dark blue Samsonite , I managed to partially close the uncooperative zipper–it’s tiny teeth stretching in protest as I yanked on the metal grip in an attempt to coax it around the corner. No joy.
Unwilling to give up, I perched awkwardly on top of the suitcase–legs splayed on either side of the bag as I released the second zipper. You know…the one that expands the depth of the bag? Nothing.
Hrmphing, I did the only thing I could. Flinging the top open, I snagged my favorite name-brand-imposter-and-much-cheaper boots along with my purple Conair blow dryer and placed them neatly in my husbands overnight bag. Perfect!
I do try to pack light, but this time I just had too much junk jammed into the carry-on. And, if I admit it, sometimes I’m the human equivalent to that old, banged-up suitcase. The…
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