Jana is going on vacation.

She is abandoning her big old house in Bonne Terre for a month to head to the mountains and then the seaside.

First the Smoky Mountains, then the beaches of North Carolina.

The real problem, says Jana, is packing.

Somehow she has to get a month's worth of stuff (and I use that term advisedly, since it includes an assortment of crystals, candles and incense, not to mention all that herb tea) into two bags small enough to carry onto the airplane.

Jana, who is convinced that the Higher Power has a grand and wonderful plan guide all of us to a higher level of consciousness and joy, doesn't trust airlines to get her luggage from Point A to Point B.

Since she also considers material possessions to be excess baggage, karmically speaking, I would think she would welcome the loss, but then, it's not my underwear going to Cleveland instead of Cape Hatteras.

Jana isn't traveling alone on this trip. Her new husband is going along.

Which leads us to the dilemma: Hubby only has one suitcase, and he points this out as often as possible to anyone who will listen.

Men and women take different approaches to almost everything in life, and packing is not an exception.

Men pack a few shirts, a few pairs of khakis, a sports coat and a tie, their shaving stuff, underwear and PJs.

Maybe a pair of dress shoes, but loafers will work with anything.

Women pack for every possible occasion, including a formal dinner at the White House, because you never know what might pop up at the last minute.

And in addition to all those clothes, we need shoes and accessories to match. And makeup and hair stuff.

I think it goes back to the days when hunting and gathering were the keys to human survival.

Men hunted, and women gathered, which explains why women always make sure everything's sorted by color, style and season, because it might be a long hard winter and you don't want to run out of anything important.

Like nail polish remover and shower gel.

If a man finds out he's going to need a tuxedo while he's out of town, he can just go out and kill it after he gets to the hotel.

Since Hubby's already packed (and they're not leaving for another week), Jana is under pressure to gather up her belongings and stuff them into two smallish suitcases.

Packing under pressure, like plucking your eyebrows when you're angry or depressed, is a sure path to tragedy.

Hubby is busy gloating, and Jana is sorting through her crystals and muttering about how she's going to be able to fit the crystals and hubby's cold dead corpse into the same carry-on case so there's room in the other suitcase for sweaters, ballgowns and swimsuits.

It sounds like it could be a long month.

But at least she'll be well-dressed.

Peggy O'Farrell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.