I’m ransacking my apartment for vitals needed on this inaugural whistle-stop shimmy down to Washington. This sort of rogue day-and-a-half accommodation-less adventure mostly just calls for vagabond basics such as gum and deodorant (as opposed to toothpaste and soap), but there’s still important gear to remember.

My friends joke that if I don’t learn to chill I’ll wind up old and cranky like Andy Rooney. In fear that I’m headed for a stroke before my 30th birthday, they’ve tried everything from recommending yoga to giving me a weeklong stress retreat for Christmas (thanks mom!).

Nothing works, and one reason is that I want to be like Andy Rooney (minus the eyebrows).