It's not even been a month, but David and I are both now officially sick of every article of clothing we brought with us to Scotland.
Edinburgh wasn't particularly difficult to pack for because there are really only two seasons here: spring and fall. I know my Scottish friends are shaking their heads and warning me to wait until winter arrives, but I'm not afraid. It rarely drops below freezing here, and I'm used to awful, snow-filled, ice-storm Kentucky winters, hovering around 0*F. (That's -17.7C. See? I'm assimilating.)
Anyway, the point is that we packed a few t-shirts and sundresses (well, I did, anyway), but mostly pants, sweaters, and boots. Since I hadn't worn sweaters and boots since February, I was almost excited for that first taste of jacket-weather. Now I'm just bored with everything. I'm also afraid to acquire anything new because I really dislike moving.
A few days ago, I went shopping. Or rather, I wandered in and out of a few shops on George Street for about forty minutes, which is about the amount of attention I have for shopping. Pretty much everything I wear is a hand-me-down or a thrift store purchase, so I had a pretty severe case of sticker shock when I saw the prices. I mean, even if they had been in dollars, not pounds, I wouldn't have believed anyone pays that much for a sweater.
I did have a strange sensation, though ... a longing for some nice, new clothes. Who am I? I'm going to blame it on my single-suitcase limited wardrobe.
Oh yeah, and I really wanted this hat:
My sweet little privileged boys playing in the show! Every woman I know is on fire lately. Whether that means finally seeking out therap...
Gooooood Monday morning, y'all! I'm writing from the Norton Cancer Institute where, for the first time in months, I'm able to ac...
I mean, why does it matter how you fold DIAPERS when they are just gonna get POOPED on anyway? How do you all sort out laundry with y...