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I actually had to borrow a suitcase for this trip because I don't even own one, and the backpack wasn't going to cut it this time. I almost cried when I packed the suitcase ... I felt like I was cheating on my backpack. I thought of all the tender moments that we shared in Europe ... carrying her on my back as we took moonlit walks along the ocean, her arms draped over my shoulders, caressing my non-existent pecs. Baby, please forgive me!!! The suitcase means nothing to me!!! Though I must admit, our relationship has lost some of its magic after returning from Europe. I've tried re-kindling the passion and re-living our glory days in Europe by carrying her around the path behind my house. But I stopped after the neighbours started giving me strange looks. I don't understand why - is it so wrong to walk around with my backpack while wearing shorts and sandals? Is it so crazy to do it while it's -30 C? As Meat Loaf once said, "I would do anything for love." And there is nothing I love more than my backpack ... except for maybe pain au chocolat, gelato, and a certain creepy-little blue-haired doll.