I forgot to pack my bikini. Our final destination: the beach.
As we were pulling out of our driveway I was in a terrible mood. I was all discombobulated after a week of finalizing projects and tying up loose ends. And I was certain that I had forgotten to pack something – you all know the feeling. Jeremy patted me on the knee and cheered me up by saying “Whatever you left behind we can pick up on the road.”
We were in Lafayette, Louisiana, the half-way point on a long road trip when I realized I forgot to pack a single swim suit. Just a week earlier I had declared to my entire family (whom Jeremy and I would be vacationing with) that I wasn’t packing a bag. That I’d be living in a bikini all week and that’s that. My sister warned me of the dangers of living in a bikini (crotch rot and what not) – I rebutted and insisted that my crotch would be FINE (as I silently said a little prayer for my hooha). So in typical Kathleen fashion I would forget to pack the one thing I really really need for this vacation.
But just like Jeremy said I was able to find a Target and pick up a new mismatched bikini. I lived in it all week. And my crotch is just fine, I know you were worried.