3.75 Days

Here I am, sitting on my living room floor, staring at piles of clothes. My two cats sit on the couch, staring down at me haughtily. I think they're having a conversation with their eyes. It'd probably go something like this:
"That's not going to fit in there"
"I think she's crazy"
"What's that new smell?"
"Let's go check it out" As they leave the room, right now.
And really, that's the conversation I'm having with myself. How in the world am I going to fit my life--everything that represents who I am, into a couple of bags? No, really--I'm asking seriously here. I'm staring at about 3.75 piles of clothes, days I have left--ironic, wondering where it's all going to go. I'm not just packing so many outfits for a ten-day-stay. Six months, people. Six. Months. There are two-to-three different seasons within a six month span. Specifically, winter, spring and summer. I have shorts mixed in with those piles of clothes. And what am I supposed to do with my coat in July? That's going to take up excessive amounts of space on the way back.  Maybe I can turn my bag into Mary Poppins'. She kept a lamp in there...