I need to be less paranoid about people judging the way I pack for weekends away with large groups of people.
My day was phoning my brother to wish him a happy birthday and going to a reading group and having lunch outside without a jacket and being semi-productive and listening to good music and being told I should go to the doctor about my toe again and Irish dancing and walking across North Bridge while someone was apparently being talked down from the ledge and being hungry and tired and singing pretty songs with lovely people and feeling guilty and eating excess cake and not yet packing for the weekend.
It’s been a mixed bag.
This week is difficult and I’m not really sure why.
I can’t say I’m not enjoying things, but things don’t feel like they fit.