Sunday was also busy. My weekend has been fantastically productive, although I haven't accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish. I'm working on those last unfinished tidbits as we - er - write.
I was up by 9:30 a.m. which prompted Major Tom to ask if everything was okay, and did he need to take my temperature, because something was certainly amiss. I assured him all was well, gave him a treat, and he quit questioning my motivations and let me shower in peace.
I restocked my makeup bag, seeing as my concealer decided to explode and spew its contents everywhere - the military should look into this, I think, as a new form of IED - and I was using samples of mascara accumulated over the past few months instead of my usual. The samples weren't as good, and I was having flashbacks to the Great Lash Mascara debacle of 2009: mascara everywhere on my face except my eyelashes.
I also looked for a new pair of shoes, because my brown flats are looking kind of flat. I struck out, but I did find some lovely dark green patent leather ones for $26. And I bought shoe polish so I can take a run at rejuvenating the boots and shoes I already own that just need a bit of buffing.
I returned to my parents' casa for a while, scratched Major Tom for a good long while, and then decided it was time to head to my own humble abode. I needed to do a bit of laundry - since I can only do tiny loads - and I wanted to rotate my wardrobe, swapping out summery things for fall/winter items.
At the same time, I culled the herd, so to speak. Summer skirts I hadn't worn in two or three years were relegated to a trashbag, awaiting delivery to the Genesis Women's Shelter Resale Store. A slew of T-shirts went into the bag, and some turtlenecks that are still wearable, just not colors that are particularly flattering, I've come to realize.
Purple = Hello, undereye circles!
The unpacked sweaters were mostly placed in a pile to be delivered to my dry cleaner, because they're almost all some blend of cotton or silk with cashmere. Winter gets expensive, around these parts. It's the curse of having delicate skin that won't tolerate more than about 30% wool or cashmere in anything worn next to the skin.
Seersucker pants went into the underbed storage boxes, as did white jeans and trousers, sundresses, and the white cotton skirts printed with politically incorrect stereotyped Mandarin Chinese scenes and Native Americans that I bought at a resale shop.
My Korean drycleaner loves the Chinese and Native American skirts, and his Hispanic employees love the one I have with sleeping sombrero-clad Mexicans printed around the hems. I have another one with barnyard animals, but I have yet to get a solid opinion on that one from horses or cows.
It's frustrating putting away all my summer clothes: there are armfuls of skirts I no longer wear, either because I don't work in "that kind of office" anymore, or because the shirts I used to wear with them have died, being worn too often with too many other skirts and pants. So the brown floral skirt hasn't seen service in over a year, and neither has the tan one with the embroidered flowers (which might be because it doesn't fit properly these days... I can't remember).
I can't bring myself to part with them, quite yet, because there is always the possibility that I will work in an office where I will be back to wearing skirts and heels again, or the skirt might fit me and I might decide to wear skirts as an everyday matter of course in the future, like next year. Will I still want to wear the sort of skirts I've just packed away? Possibly not. My taste, as I matured in my role at the last office, began gravitating more towards pencil skirts, and less towards swishy circle skirts like I used to buy.
Mexican and Chinese-printed skirts excepted, of course.