Should've gone to medical school

In preparation for my 3 week long trek to my homeland (I am a Yankee by conception, a Floridian by birth, and an Austinite by choice), I am packing.  Now, you may not know this boys, but sometimes girls try on outfits when we pack.  I, however, dress by mood, so it is difficult to pack for travels because I don't know how I'll feel at any given time.  This means that packing is also an acting class.  "And scene...you have just gotten into an argument with ___, you are frustrated and naked.  You choose ___ to wear."  This is what I do; I create scenarios and select outfits accordingly.  The only problem is this: what if I imagined feeling excited in the winter for my scene and packed a brightly colored sweater for a summer trip?  I need to think feelings and seasons, so it's all very complicated.  I digress...

I should have gone to medical school.  "Why, Jaimie?", you ask.  "Science was never your forte and you hate the sight of blood."  Yes, yes, all true but I would have been a great surgeon.  Exhibit A: whilst packing a bathing suit, I pick out a green speckled bikini I haven't worn since 3 boyfriends ago.  I thought, "Why not?!?  Viva Espana!"  As it happens, the string from the triangle top somehow wiggled it's way outside of it's home and it was sitting isolated and afraid in my bathing suit drawer.  

Because I have exceptional bedside manner, I beckon, "Do not fear, little string.  I will help you find your way back to where you belong."  And so, I sat and considered the tools at my disposal.  After donning my surgical sterilization outfit, I gather my MacGyver-like tendencies and embarked on a scavenger hunt around my house.  Oversized paperclip, check.  Tweezers, check.  With virtually no experience in bikini surgery, I plunged in.  I coaxed that little string back to it's home about 3/4 of the way with the extended oversized paperclip.  I then called upon my tweezers for assistance to widen the entrance so I could deliver the string the rest of the way.  Everything was going fine until I heard the vitals dropping.  Mayday, mayday.  It's stuck!  It won't move!  "Now what?!?!" I panicked.  Skylar was no help.  I managed to stabilize the bikini for now, so we are in better shape.  The prognosis looks good (whew!), but I am considering consulting a specialist at this point.  Any takers?