I am reporting life from the stage of Packwahn!

This is not to be confused with Bhagwahn. Packwahn is a word I coined as a 10-year-old when my mother started stressing over an upcoming journey. Some days before already, she would get nervous and irritable. Even our cat started stressing out because we were going somewhere else. When my stepdad first witnessed this phenomenon, he wasn’t quite sure why my mom was upset, and I calmly informed him, “Ah, she just has Packwahn”. Wahn is the German word for madness and Pack means packing. The older I get, the more I cultivate Packwahn. It’s terrible! I fully understand my mother now: all the logistics of travelling (I am leaving today and don’t have a suitcase yet), what to bring (the laundry! When do I do it so that it will be dry soon enough?), who to take care of the flowers (well, luckily for me, I have Ingrid). Packwahn starts when spending one night at my parents’ and gets to its worst when you are moving from one place to another, but it is already exhausting when you just go to Stockholm to see your friends for five days. It can culminate in you not wanting to go anymore and then fortunately in my case, I get emails from the people I will visit that express the anticipation to meet again and imagine the sheer delight of the planned activities. So I will go after all – even with Packwahn.

No, not going with Pernille but by plane.

No, not going with Pernille but by plane.

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