To say I have some OCD tendencies may be quite an understatement. I take pride in my clothing, which can prove packing to be quite a difficult task. I like to shower at least twice a day, which may sometimes be impossible, unless of course you use the bucket and hole of dirty water provided by the Chang Mai hill tribe. And of course, the issue around planning absolutely everything ahead of time and leaving no room for ‘surprises’, don’t get me wrong, I like to be spontaneous, as long as it is written in the calendar for June 4th at 10am…
Having just hung up my weeks worth of washing in the hotel wardrobe, due to the laundry service costing my weeks accommodation in Rome along with my right foot, which so happens to be my pretty foot, I find myself twitching in neck as my precious clothes hang, dripping the odd shower gel I scrubbed through their threads in hope of some clean underwear, before entering the ‘fancy pants’ stage. The fancy pants stage obviously being that point of time where you are left with nothing but your frilly underwear, which you never where unless you are going on a date…or out of granny panties.
Luckily, I have mastered some areas when it comes to travelling with an OCD personality, for example I have discovered the beauty of packing cells! Now here is an invention worth my right foot. Small, square packing bags that enable you to separate each group of clothing, and avoid any messy suitcases where last nights socks might rub up against your clean white top. I now know, I can walk onto the plane, worry-free in knowing that my clothing is packed sufficiently and neatly, nothing will be creased, or sitting next to my dirty washing for the length of the flight – Hallelujah!
While knowing my clothes are at one with life and cleanliness, I, however still battle with the horrors of the upper deck. My most recent flight being the war against the german retirement village that so happened to board our flight to Frankfurt. With nothing but 2345 toilet stops and breathing in an air that held the disease of at least six different passengers colds and coughs, it was a miracle I survived. With no thanks at all to the cute guy who sat next to me, messaging his girlfriend the whole entire flight…who for all I care could leave with at least four of the six diseases. All the single ladies, however, survived and left disease free – Hallelujah!
Yet the worst of all lies with the inability to tie down dates and book flights. For a twenty-one year old who seems to never stick to plans, I sure do like making them. However, due to the whimsical attitude of the family I am currently nannying for, I have been forced to take life head on, and live a ‘here and now’ lifestyle. So for now I am living life without an itinerary, finding my inner wanderer, day by day.