I still need to go shopping. In my dark years, I got rid of nearly every piece of clothing. I wore depression clothes, truly, to work under the guise that no one would notice the same shirt worn near everyday. I was creative, but still.
The move to North Carolina pressed both my ignorance and myself against time: there were priorities burning the ends of my fingers, why not assume NC was just hot all the time?
I about shed all my warm clothing left with such little room for items in the car; yet, there are four seasons in NC. Four, but with a brief winter. Relief is relief and in the depression era getting rid of things (all the stories I wrote during a certain graduate program, books written by assholes, clothing touched by assholes, then more clothing as I did not want to be seen as attractive) ran so deep I could only come clean through renewal.
And here I am.
I do hate shopping, but under my nose comes the memory of when I first smelled Blue by RL. I was under paid then and I had no one worth one penny himself to buy such a thing for me. But here upon my renewal am I ever going to attract bees in spring.
Oh, I do love me some Blue.