Last night I was determined to finish packing for my trip.

Had all the clothes folded and stacked, the one-quart ziploc bag of toiletries, and was ready to put everything in the bag. I started to wonder if it would really fit. Yup, it will. Then I remembered the hostess gift. Uh oh. Not gonna fit. Hmm, maybe a second carry on? Nah, it's heavy and breakable.

Ugh, guess that means I have to check my luggage. The last time I flew, the airline broke the two feet off my rolling bag, so it falls over now. That's why I planned to use the carry on option. I could use the same one with the broken feet, but it's pretty big and I like to travel light.

I've got some big duffle bags and I started hunting for them. I looked in the cedar closet where they usually live, but they weren't there. Humph! That stupid *&^%^& must have taken them. How how dare he! He better not have them! Why didn't I check before the divorce was final? I ought to make him give them back. Meanwhile I was still looking in the garage and the basement and all the closets again. The air was decidedly blue because I was really getting into calling the stupid @#$ %^ * % $## some really good names.

Finally, in frustration, I pulled everything of the shelf and floor of the cedar closet and when I got to the small suitcase, it felt too heavy so I opened it and there they were.

I hate not remembering stuff like that. Of course, in my search I found the "mod" suitcase I got for high school graduation. I've never seen any others in that pattern. I also have the matching train case and shoe bag. Those were the days. It's really retro - white with black graphic flowers on it. It's huge, has no rollers or pull strap and it could pop open unless they let me lock it. Yeah, right. Then everything would fall out, including the hostess gift which would probably smash and get all over my clothes and that would be a nasty mess. Or someone might swipe it.