“Why don’t we just strap a chain around the house and drag it down there?” That was the last remark I courageously made to my wife before I high-tailed it away with our two dogs in a separate vehicle to take them to the border for a week.

We were packing the truck for vacation when my confidence decided to make the acquaintance of stupidity. I’m not sure why I feel the need to make underhanded comments about anticipated problems such as overpacking. It’s not as if the receiver of my sarcasm will promptly change their actions based solely upon my being patronizing. Who am I to judge anyway? We all overpack in some shape, form or fashion, right?

Take, for example, my blindingly unnecessary need for eight hats, seven books, three of the exact same shirt and nine pairs of shoes that I took on vacation. The latter being the most telling since I wore the same pair of flip-flops from the first day of arriving on our trip.

Strangely enough, I actually could have benefited from someone watching over me, shaming me as I sat atop my suitcase while forcing it to zip closed. They could have said something to the effect of, “What are you planning on doing, opening a shoe store while on vacation?”

I generally respond well to difficult situations when I see them through the lens of a Gary Larson cartoon. In my formative years, my self-confidence was cast in a mold of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor; therefore, I used irony as a coping mechanism and self-motivator.

So what’s the psychology behind needing too much, or rather not wanting to run out? I didn’t have time to perform my due diligence on such a study since I wrote this while on vacation this past week, and naturally I had other pressing matters to attend to, such as what hat to wear for breakfast, lunch or dinner. So rather than provide statistics and studies from professionals regarding humans’ need for “stuff,” I’ve taken a stab at it with my own baseless, humble opinion.

After all, my opinion seems to be my most bountiful unsolicited bestowment upon humanity. Just ask my wife Shannon as she’s packing our vehicle for a trip.

I think our primal sense of survival combined with the modern affliction of “just in case” causes us to overpack our lives with underestimated outcomes. For instance, I knew that one bag of coffee should have sufficed for a week on my vacation, but I took four bags anyway. I mean, come on, what’s more fun than becoming dangerously overcaffeinated while parasailing over a giant body of water infested with sharks?

As I made my way back to my house from taking our dogs to the boarder that morning, I contemplated my next move. I knew Shannon would most likely have the bags, boxes and beach necessities packed perfectly, as if she had just won a level of live-action Tetris. Regardless of the challenge, she always finds a path to success. Given this inevitable outcome, I decided to humble myself and allow her to decide when enough was enough.

Rather than seeing the good in a harmless obstacle such as overpacking, I had chosen annoyance, and I was ashamed.

In the midst of my disgruntled disposition, I completely missed the reason behind our overpacked vehicle. Every extra box, bag or board game was there for one specific reason: to make sure that me and everyone else on our trip had enough, whatever that may be.

I can pretty much deduce that I was annoyed that morning because my needs weren’t being met. I needed to leave when I wanted to, I needed to have fewer things to unpack, and I needed to be right. All the while, that overpacked truck was overflowing with nothing but intent for my needs to be met.

We already have enough. Each and every one of us does. Just waking up and taking a breath is enough to last us a lifetime, and it sure beats the alternative. So when a loved one overpacks for us, the best thing to do is accept it with all its good and loving purpose. Not once can I recall a time that an overpacked car on vacation was filled with anything other than good intentions.

I may never learn when to shut up and see the way people love me. I’m often quite guilty of emotional survival rather than allowing life to see itself through. I can only hope that my family will continue to love me in spite of myself and my half-baked wit.

To sum it up, I think overpacking is proverbial. Enough becomes enough once we can see we have enough.

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].