Today, I’m wearing an approximation of this:
I feel bad for my husband on the mornings I try to wear something other than a pair of black pants and a shirt. I get snappy and grumpy and complainy, and then get I mad at the dogs and then I get mad at the bathroom and my make-up basket. Mornings like these, I end up in front of my closet at least three times. Half the time, by the end of it, I end up in a pair of black pants and a shirt anyway.
As soon as fall comes around, mornings like these seem to get worse. My collection of long-sleeved items never seems large enough, my cardigans seem too big and shapeless, and my tights get worn within the first hour, it seems, of them being washed, and then buried in my laundry basket. I hate being cold, but if you looked at my closet, brimming with summer tank tops and skirts, you would probably never expect so.
Humour me, now, while I take a big step back from my morning, while I dissect my own childish, grumptacular, behaviour: we haven’t done our laundry properly in weeks, and if I actually sorted through all my clothes, I know I would find three or four sweaters shoved at the back of the closet that I haven’t worn in months. I have no shortage of clothes. Mornings like these, I know I’m not frustrated with a lack of clothes to put on my body. Rather, mornings like these, I’m frustrated by a choice the Husband and I have made together that sometimes, I wish we didn’t have to make at all.
We chose to buy a house when we were just starting out. And then, we decided to renovate the shit out of it. On top of that, we decided to pay the shit out of our mortgage. To just extend matters as much as we can, we then decided to save approximately 75% of our income so we can throw a second story on top of it. Saving so much of our paycheques each month means I don’t get an updated fall wardrobe.
I’m not going to tell you that I’m not complaining. I am complaining! I will tell you that I know I shouldn’t complain. We are ridiculously lucky to have enough income that we can save 75% of it. We are ridiculously lucky that we could buy a house so young to begin with. We are ridiculously lucky to not have to count our pennies every time we go to the grocery store. My lack of a fall wardrobe is not a problem.
But sometimes, on days like today, I wish it were all said and done, that our second storey was magically built and our mortgage inexplicably gone, and my whole paycheque could go towards fall boots and cozy knit sweaters. Please tell me I’m not the only one who turns into a spoiled brat when confronted by her fall wardrobe?