Cloth Box of Death

      What is it about suitcases that makes people want to scream?  Is that illogical? Alright, that makes me want to scream, to quit, to jump off of a very high ledge - wearing a parachute of course,  don't go jumping to conclusions now.  All I can say is that I'm sitting here staring at my suitcase with utter loathing, and I wonder why.  I almost feel bad for it, after all it's not as if it's done anything wrong.  Still I imagine it taunting me, ridiculing me for my packing choices; that extra pair of shorts or
funky T-shirt.  
       If I had to guess I would say that it's less about the suitcase and more about what it represents.  Clearly we all have issues with the unknown, I would certainly rather be in control of the situation by knowing every detail.  Instead,  I must resign to knowing only bits and pieces.  So I stare at my suitcase with dread,  not knowing if I've planned correctly or if I'll encounter an unexpected event and be caught off-gaurd.  That, I suppose, is what brings the excitement.  The very thing that scares me is what makes this whole experience fun.  So maybe I'll give my suitcase another chance.  After all, we're going to be spending a lot of time together.