It is Saturday and hot. The sun battles the clouds, resulting in a stink of humidity that suffocates skin. Rough palms scuff and scrap delicate skin on face as sweat is swiped from upper lips and chins leaving red whimpering rashes that burn in the too harsh light, and perhaps I should have worn a shirt over my too skimpily topped dress? The scooter trip to my sisters is probably just long enough for my bossom to get sunburnt. Must remember not to lean forward. Why do they make women's clothes so lowcut that one is nearly forced to wear a t-shirt under them? Do they not know how hot it gets here?
BBQ today, but I think I may mostly eat dip and salad. Can't face hot greasy bbqed sausage in this weather. Perhaps I shall just wimp out in the airconditioning? I've no reputation for socialbility to defend.
Have seen lots of things I would quite like to buy myself, but very little to actually buy for family members. Agreed to go shopping with the parent tomorrow, which will probably be traumatic. She asks me what she should buy me for Christmas, but she doesn't like any of the things I have suggested. She has decided she is going to buy me clothes. Only I rather fear I shall end up outfitted in clothes exactly like mothers. Like the time she bought us matching vest coats.