Confessions of a Pack Mule

So I’m walking up to the door of the office where I work and an attractive young woman stops and holds the door open for me.

I’m of the old school and usually try to hold doors open for women instead of vice versa and my first thought is that I must look really old and decrepit. I try not to feel too badly about myself. As I squeeze by, however, I realize she has simply taken pity on me because I am so loaded down with stuff.

I am always loaded down with stuff. As a good little Boy Scout, I learned to always “Be Prepared.”

BUTLER: “Except you were never actually a Boy Scout.”

BAGMAN: “He was a Cub Scout…embarrassed me to no end with that silly little blue uniform!”

My primary load is a black back-pack where I keep my laptop. My job provided me with a more conservative looking briefcase to carry it in but the backpack has more room and is more comfortable although I never wear it correctly and sling it over my shoulder instead. For no other reason than my ego thinks it looks cooler that way. So I wear out one strap but not the other.

In addition to the laptop, I load it to bursting with work files that I can read at home and bills, letters, and junk from home that I can process during free time at work. With very few exceptions, I have never done work-work at home or home-work at work. But I carry this stuff back and forth every day.

In my right hand, I carry my camera bag. I carry my camera everywhere I go. Over the weekend, Karen and I were running off to buy some paint at Lowes and I stopped and ran back into the house to get my camera. Karen just rolls her eyes. She knows what I will say. “I never know when I might run across a great image to capture!” With very few exceptions, I never run into images unless I’m actually going off to shoot something.

In my left hand, I carry an outlandish orange insulated lunch box. I have a reputation for never going out for lunch. This is because (a) I use the time to write blogs and (b) because I’m too cheap to eat in restaurants. With slightly more exceptions than the previous paragraphs, I seldom actually eat my lunch. Usually I forget and waste countless quarters on the snack machines. Then I feel guilty and have to find some trash can on the way home to dump what I haven’t eaten so Karen won’t find out.

BUTLER: “What if she reads this blog!”

BAGMAN: “Then you stand up and take it like a man! I think you should announce it anyway! Say, ‘Honey. I’ve got a confession I need to make. I’m sorry you have to find out, but I’ve been doing something behind your back. I’ve been having an affair with the candy machine.’”

And under my arm I often carry frames of photographs. Whenever I frame something, I take it work and hang it in my office, replacing one that I then take home. It keeps my office changing and I sometimes get good feedback from some of my co-workers.

Someday I plan to become very daring and heroic. I will leave my laptop and work at work. Leave my camera and personal junk at home. Announce that I am planning to eat out. And see if I can go to work without carrying anything!

Nah. Way too scary.

BAGMAN: “But you could hold doors open for women!”

BUTLER: “Leave him alone. He is safer with the snack machine.”