Just one objective today: get my boxes packed and lugged up to the Post Office. Going to the Post Office at Christmas time and waiting in a very long line is an old Hawaiʻi tradition. The box was only ten pounds—but that’s ten pounds I won’t have to schlep around on the next leg of the journey.
I asked ChatGPT if it was acceptable to mail dirty clothes home. I was told yes. Of course, ChatGPT seems to be wrong about 15% of the time. But I am choosing to believe this.
Tomorrow: put everything I didn’t mail home into my backpack and check in online for the flight to Honolulu. I’ve culled my load down to the barest minimum: three undies, two socks, one bra, three shirts, one base layer, one skirt, and two jackets. Plus scarf and gloves. AllBirds high-tops. And the pair of “running” shorts I’m wearing at this very moment.
Of course, I am lugging too much tech. But I am not mailing my MacBook anywhere. I figure it’s about five pounds of clothes, drugs, granola bars, and pour-over coffee—and five pounds of tech—in a 25-liter Patagonia commuter/day pack.
Little old ladies shouldn’t be doing shit like this. But if you think you’re having fun, then you’re having fun. And this is one of the advantages of being child-free: nobody can really nag or guilt you out of doing stupid things like my upcoming crazy seven-day adventure.
Yesterday’s brunch—a more suitable activity for the senior circuit.
Many good years and good times in this photo.