When I was young, I would bring out all my things and force them into a bag. My supernanny will then unpack the bag and do what I did all over again neatly in a manner synonymous to saying "You don't know how to pack. You will never learn and you just wasted everyone's time." I'm not really sure if that is what she is trying to say but that is what came through.
The bag above is mine. Its a man bag. I've seen boys on TV wear it and boys in print sport it. Still, I never got the hang of using it. I am more of a hanger-person which means I prefer man bags with longer straps I could hang on my shoulders. From afar, I would resemble a hanger.
My mother is already nagging that I should pack because we will be leaving to Manila about 5:30 AM tomorrow, which unfortunately also means we need to be at the airport at around 4 AM to check-in without having to run around. Its my fault because I booked the tickets and I have the tendency to sell our comfort for even just 2 dollars.
I use this bag whenever I travel:
It looks like shit already. I know that its tired. Especially during the vice versa part because it gets filled with soiled, shmelly fabric. Its the day just after laundry day and I'm head-to-toe in confusion over what to bring and what to never wear again. Ever.
For this trip, I will go after comfort. My body is under too much already. Watch for the next post because I'll be sharing what I am suffering now and what will probably explode into something bigger in Manila.
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