Today I'm frantically doing laundry and packing. Not just for me, but for the girls, who leave for church music camp three days after I do. This reminds me that in less than one year, Julie will be heading off to college. That means I'm going to have to stick my nose out of my foxhole and shop. Not just for luggage, bedding, small appliances and other necessities of dormatory life, but for clothes. For me.
Forget the Empy Nest Syndrome. Empy Wardrobe Syndrome is even worse.
As I work today on packing 3 separate suitcases going 3 different directions, I'm coming up short. None of the clothes I wear belong to me. I lost my shoes when they hit 3rd grade and fit into them. When they hit jr. high, my t-shirts became community property. By high school, my jeans, skirts and blouses started disappearing, obstensibly for Nerd Day and 70's Revival Day. (Does that give you an idea about how often I shop?)
By default rather than design, I've lost the habit of having my own clothes. Since I don't work outside the home, I have no need for fancy duds. I live in their t-shirts and discarded jeans. If I need something, I just grab whatever the girls aren't currently wearing. At any given time I'm a walking billboard for Central Valley High School Marching Band, Odyssey of the Mind, Evergreen Jr. High volleyball team, Big Rock Fiddlers, etc. Except now, they're taking all those things with them.
Next week is only a foretaste. When Julie leaves home next fall, I'm going to be faced with the choice between shopping and going naked. As tempting as nudity sounds by comparision, the rest of the world disagrees, so I'll have to bite the bullet. My only consolation is that neither of them have grown into my bra.
Yet.
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