Brent did most of the packing for our new house. That’s kind of his way.
I helped around the margins, and powered through the weekends, but he did most of it.
One of the first things he packed were the “extra” clothes in our guest bedroom. That seemed fine. We don’t usually go into that closet, so it’s not likely he’s going to pack anything that we’re going to need between now and then, right?
Those were our summer clothes.
In Sacramento, I realized why I needed summer clothes.
I also realized I probably needed a better phrase for those, now.
Maybe just “clothes” will work.
So, in the 85-degree weather, we set off to find some shorts.
Our first stop was Ross, which is always hit or miss, and this time, it was a big miss.
First of all, there weren’t as many shorts as I thought there would be at Ross in sunny Sacramento.
Second, the shorts that were there were … hideous. Tiny cutoffs with lace on the bottoms. Coral-colored high-waisted shorts that you could almost see camel toe in when they were on the hanger.
The skirts weren’t any better, and the dresses were much more “interview” than they were “drive in a car for six hours.”
I almost bought capri workout pants with roses on them, because they were the closest thing to reasonable I could find in the entire store.
“Is this my new life?”
Brent ushered me out of Ross and drove us to Target, where I fared much, much better.
Shorts of a reasonable length, and without a waistband that went all the way up my rib cage.
Shirts that were cute and flattering.
Sure, the prices were higher at Target than they were at Ross.
And sure, I didn’t remember a $25 gift card I had in my purse until three hours had gone by.
But I got my pair of shorts. Plus two tops. Now I can comfortably get to Phoenix, where I will…
…immediately need my summer clothes.
Because 85 is so three months ago for Phoenix.