Pissy Packing

I've gone from being insecure to just being plan angry.

My teacher said to pack light. The reason being that there are all these baggage limitations placed on us by a European airline we will be using to get from Barcelona to Venice. Limits like the sum of the bag's height, width, and length can't be over a certain number and the total weight needs to be under this amount. If you go over? You have to pay a baggage fee. It is anywhere between 10 Euros to 20 Euros.

Packing light is apparently an impossibility with my mother. She saw what I was packing, but immediately sent into a panic thinking that my normal dressing habits are not kosher for the living environment I will find myself in.

Please. I went through this past semester on only three pairs of jeans. That's right, sixteen weeks and only three different pair of jeans. Naturally, I washed them with the rest of my clothes. Packing a week's worth of clothing for me would fit into a high schooler's back pack.

Or at least it would. Now I have a bag appropriate for a family vacation to Florida and not a class in Spain where we are trying to not be the target of a pick pocketer.

But whatever.

I'm now stuck with my class bag, a camera bag, and a bag of clothing. I feel I've over packed, but I can't get around that. Everything in there now are all bare necessities. The number, however, is the questionable part. Do I really need two pairs of socks when I've gone two weeks before changing them normally? Will I really go through all ten shirts? Why did I even have five pair of jeans in there?

To top it all off, amids the anger, I can't help but feel even less prepared than I did this morning. There's no way I will survive the first test of my class: finding my way to the hostel by myself.