10. Packing and Pranks

I hate packing a suitcase. If I had it my way, I would wear the same outfit all summer. In fact, I probably still will. Burbank’s 5am friendly neighbor phone call this morning turned into a half hour whinge from me about how I hate packing things.

Burbank tried to lighten my mood the next day by unpacking all my clothes while I was making us grilled cheese sandwiches in the next room. He took out and rehung each of my shirts, hid my trousers under the bed, and hung my pants out the window for the whole of New York to see. Then he repacked my suitcase with blackberry cereal bars, four tubes of herpes lip gel, and a signed copy of his novel, A Butterfly Tomorrow, his signature in pranks like a slashed Z in the drapery.









I pretended like it wasn’t funny and had a bit of a fit over what I called a catastrophe. I called him irresponsible and not a very good friend, but I had to do that because I knew if I acted like it was no big deal, which it wasn’t a big deal, then Burbank would have gotten no pleasure out of it. I only want to make him happy.

Anyone got any good suitcase packing advice?