I hate packing.  I’m always afraid I’m going to forget something.  Yesterday, as I was jumping up and down on my suitcase, I had to suppress an urge to give my plumber a call:

“Ping, I need you to come over immediately.”

“What?  What?  Problem with plumbing?”

“I’m going on a trip.  I’ve packed shirts.  And socks.  And sweatshirts.  And stuff.  Now I need the kitchen sink.”

“What? Kitchen sink?  What?”

“Yes.  What if I’m traveling and the place I’m going doesn’t have a kitchen sink?  I’ve decided to bring my own.  I need you to come down here and detach it so I can pack it.”

“Ah.  Very strange, this job is.  Very strange.”

“Hurry up and get down here.  Also, I’ll need to be able to fit it into a duffel bag.”

“Ah, okay.  Detach sink.  Fit into bag.  Job will run around $1500.”

“Okay, but I’ve already converted all my money into foreign currency.  Will you take a traveler’s cheque?”