I always over pack. That sweatshirt I haven’t worn in three years — the one with the hole in the left sleeve? It comes with me every time.
My bulging suitcase barely accommodated the beloved item of clothing when I shoved it through the zippers about a month ago, on top of six mugs and more books than I bothered to count. I loaded everything into the back seat of my Honda Civic, bid adieu to my loving parents and hit the road.