Anyhow, having had my first taste of fifty-degree weather, I feel myself overcome with the giddy excitement that we of the northern climes feel every year when we sense that, though spring is not yet officially here, it is altogether possible.
Bursting with hope, I set about on the tasks crucial to marking the arrival of potential spring. First among these is the packing away of the wool clothes. Farewell, tweed skirts! Adieu, itchy wool cardigan! You have served me well through the dark times of winter, but your cotton cousins need to break free from their bonds of winter storage and find their way back to their rightful place in my closet.
Sunshine on My Woolens
Though this is a joyful time, it is not without its trials. As the warm-weather clothes emerge from storage, I have to check for fit. (Translation: This is when I find out how much weight I gained over the winter.) Knowing that I had half a donut and an entire cupcake yesterday, I decided not to try that khaki skirt and those black pants that only work when I'm feeling skinny.
My floral-print blouse still fits, and I'm going to take that as good enough until I've put down the laptop for a while, laced up the ol' walking shoes, and gone around the block a few times. This is, after all, a time of hope.
0 comments:
Post a Comment