Ummmm, well actually it's the 20th today... And there's no way I can remember what I did on the 15th... so this time, I'm traveling into the future! Sort of, anyway...
Well, today, my Dearest Diary, I packed. And I packed. And I packed some more. Why? Because I'm going away (that's usually why you pack). Tomorrow, in fact.
Where am I going? To Hadrian's Wall, up north. What am I going to do there? Walk.
So yes. I've been packing heaps and heaps of stuff. And then unpacking half of it, because my rucksack's too heavy.
You know how it is, with packing. You pack absolutely everything, and squeeze it into your pack, and push and push, and it just won't go in. So you look back at it, and decide you don't really need eleven T-shirts just for a week, and take some out. And even then it's really hard to close the pack, but you do it, eventually, with a lot of pushing, pulling and, I admit, swearing.
And then you get that awful feeling. Have I packed my toothbrush? And you think and think, but you can't quite remember. And so you go into the bathroom, and you can't find it, so you must have packed it.
But you're not quite sure.
So what do you do? You check, of course. And your washbag is always at the very, very bottom of the pack. So you turf everything out of the pack, unfolding half of the clothes as you go, until you find your washbag. And you check inside it, and - lo and behold! - there it is: your toothbrush, happy as Larry.
So you pack it all in again, and squash and squeeze until you can close the pack.
And then you remember - I'm going tomorrow. So I'll need my toothbrush in the morning...
And it's that terrible moment when you have to decide - do you unpack everything again, and then risk forgetting the toothbrush in the morning; or do you leave it and have smelly breath tomorrow?
Well, what would you do?
I unpacked again, of course.
Which means I'll forget my toothbrush tomorrow. Thus is life.
Well, folks, this will be my last contribution to anything for a whole week. Sad, ain't it?