And sometimes I just want to travel. I want to hit the road and not worry if I'm going to be coming home within a few hours and if I'll have the materials to freshen up... and sometimes there's always the necessity of leaving home because of an emergency at home, whether it be fire, intruders, flood, or something weirder.
I've got a complete change of clothes in this, and a cosmetics/toiletries bag that ensures that I don't have to panic about how I look or smell as long as there are at least rudimentary bathing facilities. I'm putting all of the items that might raise eyebrows at an airport into a tiny bag that I'll affix to the side to make sure that they're easily accessible.
I need scissors (blunt-tipped, possibly nail scissors), shampoo of some description, and a small hairbrush, but other than that, I think the bag's just about packed so I could take off cross-country for a few random days in civilization with cash to hand.
I've always, after hitting my teenage years, had one of these bags packed. At first it was pure sheer unadulterated paranoia, the logical extension of playing spies in the woods when I was nine and reading too much bad science fiction starting at eleven. It gradually became a symbol of freedom. Never mind that I tie myself down to people, if not to places, and information, if not to things. I'll count it as a virtue, the day I can live anywhere with a job I can work from anywhere with a connection, clothes I can wear and wash and wear again, an access device that's portable, yet powerful, and access to the globe at my fingertips.