ION, have you ever done anything so dumb you can't even explain to yourself how you managed to do it?

Oh, my, yes. The dumb stuff I report to y'all sometimes, not even the worst of it.

But, JZ, what are you really trying to tell us?

So, I went to the doctor yesterday to have four spot-things taken off my back. Not cancer, just raised brown blotches that come with age, apparently. They itch and I hated them, so got them taken off.

He (spoilerfonted for medical TMI) numbed me, sliced them off then cauterized each one. They are each about the size of a quarter, don't look like scabs--ust like odd whitish blotches, and they HURT. One of them is right under my bra and I am a little cranky about the whole thing.

I am suffering for beauty is what I'm trying to say.

Zen, I am trying to tell you that my workplace is badly in need of some gin and a dog bowl.

All I'm reporting about this dumb thing is, from now on I'm packing for every trip two weeks in advance. Just so I can be calm and think about what I'm doing, and so I'll have time to change my mind when I realize I've done something inexplicably stupid.

I don't have anxiety about travel, or flying, or any of the normal things normal people fret about. I'm not afraid of things. I know how to take care of my shit. I thwarted a thief in the crowd at the fireworks on NYE. No, my madness-inducing anxiety hits me when I contemplate packing. Not even normal fears there, either. I don't fear forgetting my medication or losing my glasses; I've got this. No, it's about my clothing. What shoes, what coat, what pants, what shirts? My BFF just tosses some stuff in a bag and goes. Katie wears black pants and fannish t-shirts everywhere. I am baffled by this unconcern. Unless I had a TARDIS to carry every item of clothing I own and several I haven't bought yet, I couldn't possibly bring everything I might need. So I have to choose the right clothes/shoes for circumstances that I don't know what they are yet, and -- panic. Every time. Never mind that I've traveled a lot and nothing terrible or even particularly notable has ever happened from me not having the right things. Well, except this time, but only I was affected. And I did do better this time with packing clothes, the stupid fail was shoes. I'm calling it a learning experience and moving on.

Zen, I am trying to tell you that my workplace is badly in need of some gin and a dog bowl.

See, I just feel that you could have communicated that more clearly.

Oh, anything right under your bra is awful. Sympathies, Scrappy.

Aw, Zen, that doesn't sound like an actual dumb thing. But good for you learning from it.

Gin and a dog bowl, two bits.

I feel like shoes are always the hard part, Zen! Because they take up so much space and are heavy, so you want to minimize the number of pairs, but there is no magic shoe that is good for everything (like, flip flops for showers or beach, walking shoes, cute shoes, sandals, warm shoes, shoes for wet weather...these cannot all be the same shoe!)

Agreed, shoes are the hardest part of packing.

I'm sorry, JZ, what is you need me to do with Q? Maybe I should ask Zen.

They itch and I hated them, so got them taken off.

Off with them! Right under the bra strap, that's a bad place to get an itchy/hurty thing.

Aw, Zen, that doesn't sound like an actual dumb thing.

Thanks! But nope, it was dumb. I packed a old pair of black boots somehow mistaking them for a unworn pair of (otherwise identical) brown boots, and had to walk for a week on broken-down soles because I didn't have another pair of shoes that was appropriate for walking in chilly rain. I remember thinking, wow, these are a really dark brown! Dummy, they're black. They're the same black boots I took on the first UK trip and walked the soles out of. The dumbest thing is, I never realized it! I spent the whole trip thinking, damn, how could these boots have worn out so fast? Gosh, my feet hurt, am I that much heavier now than I was four years ago? It wasn't until today when I went to throw away the empty shoebox (I ditched the damn boots in the hotel) and saw BLACK BOOTS written on it, and found the untouched BROWN boots still in the closet, that I realized I'd been hiking in the old boots. That's what makes me feel stupid - not, taking the wrong boots, but not realizing they WERE the wrong ones.