Vacuum-compressing our anxiety makes it smaller

I have a new obsession: Shrinking.

Not the Apple show. That would make too much sense, because it is actually a good show that is worth the time it takes to watch it.

No, what I am suddenly, inexplicably obsessed with is compressing everything I own into vacuum sealed bags.

Yes, that’s right, I’ve been reduced to reducing things.

Going down bizarre, obsessive, often cyclical rabbit holes has long been a feature of my personality. I chalk it up to the Myers-Briggs combination of the J preference, which manifests as a yearning for order and structure, and the N preference, which brings a limited capacity for imposing it because that sh*t is boring. The N-J personality types are the most rare, which is good, because they are also the most neurotic.1

Every few years/months/weeks, I become completely gripped by some truly terrible and tragic state of affairs that requires my immediate attention and I go on some big overhauling frenzy, researching new plants for my yard, coming up with plans to remodel my kitchen, clearly labeling things, getting rid of every pair of jeans I don’t “love,” finding the perfect pair of jeans, putting everything in storage bins, cleaning out my defunct collection of storage bins, devising a house cleaning schedule, devising a month-long dinner menu, devising a daily reading schedule, devising a stretching routine, devising a 10 year travel schedule, devising some other system to revamp my entire life.

A life that is basically fine. Not that there isn’t room for improvement, but I am generally a healthy person with fine jeans who reads enough books and doesn’t live in complete filth and chaos.

And who will never, ever, ever follow a month-long dinner menu, even with a remodeled kitchen, or be able to efficiently locate things in her house, even if they reside in clearly labeled bins. And, to be clear, only about 1/8th of the things do reside in clearly labeled bins, because, like all my projects, I lost interest in that one about 1/8th of the way into it.

My latest outbreak of neurosis started in preparation for my Kenya trip. I decided I wanted to pack lightly this time. In fact, that is always my goal with every trip, to pack lightly. Sometimes there is a reason for that, i.e. we will be going to Europe, where all the rental cars and hotel rooms and washing machines are made for tiny woodland nymphs and elevators have yet to be invented.

But most of the time, you’ve got a whole checked bag and you can safely bring two pairs of shoes. My husband basically brings his entire wardrobe wherever he goes (and sometimes even a whole computer monitor), and he hasn’t been killed by his suitcase even once.

But for some reason, every time I travel, I feel I must pack for the possibility that I will have to flee into the night carrying my luggage and my two baby teens with my own arms like a World War II-era refugee. I bet those folks had some amazing capsule wardrobes.

The algorithms prey on insane people like me, those terrified of sleep-hoarding shoes who can be induced into hoarding organizational items instead, and ultimately I’m sure that’s what told me about the vacuum bags.

You know how it goes, you hover on an ad for 2 seconds to tell your teen, NO, you cannot have my water bottle, it does NOT make water taste better than your water bottle,2 and suddenly you’re buried under a parade of capybara nightlights.

In any case, I somehow got acquainted with these bags that allow you to put the entire universe back into whatever little pouch it was in before the Big Bang so you can look like a chic French lady who owns only three outfits but they are all perfection on your trip to Paris. And I thought to myself, Yes, I must have that, that will change my entire life that is basically fine.

And then I got the vacuum bags and I packed three times as many clothes as I actually wore on my trip to Kenya in a bag I still had to check, but I felt so very proud of how much space I saved, because you never know when you’re going to stumble upon a giraffe sculpture to buy that will look so good with the six other giraffe sculptures you already have.

And best of all, I got the satisfaction of using the tiny little vacuum that sucked out all the air, thereby solving all the world’s problems. By the time I had sucked the air out of all my clothes every day for three weeks, there was no more ebola in the Congo.

It was so inspiring that when I got home, I decided I needed to suck more air out of more things. So I bought more bags and started in on my fabric supply, which I had already reorganized about 50 times before according to as many organizational frameworks. I stuffed it all in the bags and I vacuumed all the air out and I stuffed and I sucked, and I got all that fabric stacked on one closet shelf, and this saved American democracy.

Then I decided I needed more MORE BAGS so I could flatten my sweater collection, so that if AI makes my children permanently unemployable after I spend all my money on their college education, there will be plenty of room for us to live forever in this house because I vacuumed up all the sweater air.

But I haven’t done that yet, because we are leaving soon for two weeks in the Baltics, and I am determined to basically fit everything I bring in my pockets. I bought better reviewed vacuum bags this time that completely dismantle each individual air molecule inside of them and send your items through a wormhole in the space-time continuum to be retrieved magically when you open the bags back up in exile after the MAGA Gestapo puts a warrant out for your arrest.

But after that, it’s the sweaters. And world peace.

Hope everyone is enjoying a week in which the Trump administration is finally FINALLY combatting slave labor practices in Norway. Don’t tell me he doesn’t care about human rights.

My Kenya trip still has plenty of room, because alas, some of the people I thought were really, really interested turned out to not be interested, actually. Maybe haven’t heard about vacuum sealed bags yet. SO, please please please please share with your travel-loving friends. I mean, how cool is it to go to Kenya with a former CIA Africa analyst?! I will spill all kinds of secrets. Just kidding. But I will do a whole bunch of organizational work for free and give some cool talks as well. Full details.

PS Plenty of “mature” travelers have been on this trip, one with Parkinsons even!

PPS We now have a way to pay by credit card, if that was a deterrent.

In other news, I am getting better at talking to my new BFF, the camera on my laptop. It’s still really unresponsive but I think I did figure out how to position it better.

Brad Onishi and Matthew D. Taylor also let me come on the livestream (in the second half) to talk about Hegseth’s hormonal makeover for the military.

Don’t forget to subscribe to Axis Mundi! They are doing cool things, and most importantly, they are nice to me and actually pay me some money to do things with them.

As is Bad Faith Media! This piece apparently really fooled some folks, who thought it was real news. It could be….

I also got back to painting this week. Remember, all proceeds from my art shop go to pro-democracy causes/organizations.

I’m going to write one post next week, then take off for a couple weeks while my family and I tour the Baltics with my microscopic suitcase.

Grace and peace, friends. Go well. Godspeed.