I hate packing

I simply cannot express how much I completely and totally cannot stand packing. Or getting ready for trips. It just hammers home to me how much different I AM from how I wish I WAS.

I wish I was the type of person who could throw on a cashmere sweater grab some tampons and some sunglasses and a copy of Vogue or something and just take off. And hell, if I need more more clothes when I get somewhere, I could just buy some fabulous native clothing and start a new fashion craze for Indian saris or something. In reality I am the type of person who will make 60,000 lists of things to do for weeks before I leave, who will fret for days over whether to pack the only cashmere sweater I own because it's so ratty because I wreck all my clothes, who will end up packing only jeans I wish I fit into because I'm in denial about what actually looks good on me, and who will end hating everything I've brought with me the second I arrive at my destination, who can't afford to buy anything new and who has to lug around the nine hundred pounds of luggage I brought with me even though I hate it all and will just end up wearing yoga pants and one of Mr. E's huge t shirts the entire time anyway.
I wish I knew how to stop being this way, but I don't. I wish boots didn't take up half of my suitcase, but they do, and yes, I do need six pairs. I wish my life didn't come with SO MUCH baggage. Every once in a while I'd like to just jet off to India...free as the wind.