March 2. Day 61. The naked truth

I am relatively sure that this time last year I was not walking around naked. Yes, the mind does have a commendable ability to blot out unpleasant facts but still I'm sure I would remember that if only because I've been having the same recurring nightmare about arriving at a do in either my PJs or nothing since I was in kindy. A fear of not being prepared and being "exposed" means any nudey dude action I would recall.
Which raised the question, what was I wearing this time last year? It's now autumn and with the  bucketing down rain there was a definite chill in the air this morning which hasn't been there. I stood there in the rather large walk in robe and looked at all the frocks, blouses and slacks (these are words which I am determined to bring back into fashion) and could see nothing appropriate for the occasion and the season. Nothing.
There's been no wardrobe purge so where are the autumn clothes? Why does this happen at the change of season every year? So with a face as long as a wet weekend I pulled on a pair of leg ins and a shirt and rushed out the door for a medical appointment.
I got wet, I got cold and I wasn't hanging around the great outdoors for any longer than strictly necessary. Weekends are normally characterised by long walks and awesome photographic opportunities. Today, not so much. I'll call it a self portrait. I'm such a drip desperately trying to hang on to summer. The naked truth is there. I'm losing it.