The Day upon which my Dress Became a Shirt.

Today was one of those days that I didn't mind spending on my own. It was cold and lovely, and of course is far from done, but I'm generalizing since I'm writing a blog post before the end of the day.

One of my favorite people spent the night at my apartment, and this morning after we ate breakfast and parted ways (she goes to another school), I figured that it would be a good day. I can feel winter coming, which makes sense since it's November in Michigan, and which I enjoy because I look forward to winter all year. Despite my knowledge of the seasons, I decided that I would wear a dress. After all, it has long sleeves, so of course it's warm enough for wear in November, right? [Wrong.]

There was frost on my car and since I never get up and out early enough to warm up a vehicle, I had to combat those icy opaque designs with windshield-washer-fluid and rolling all of my windows down. My drive to school was very brisk. However, I got rockstar parking in the first row of parking spaces. Despite the knowledge that I had many garments warmer than my dress in my trunk and despite my knowledge of the current temperature further illustrated by my drive, I figured I'd be fine in the past-fall-but-certainly-not-winter weather. Life goes on, as did my day.

I got 100% on my analysis of some Spanish poetry (written in Spanish), turned in an excellent physics report, read some Steinbeck and had lunch with a friend (yay friends!) and then I went to my car to get my computer. I foolishly hoped that perhaps the sun had come out, or maybe it had grown warmer, or even that I had suddenly come into my own with some newfound Northern traits which would enable me to withstand the cold, but alas.

None of these had taken place.

Once at the car, I fished some jeans out of my trunk, got in the passenger side and proceeded to put them on. During this brief process, the boy who drove the SUV parked next to me reached his vehicle, sent me an odd look, got in, drove away, AND another boy driving a red station wagon promptly took his spot, sent me another odd glance, and then went to class. I don't change that slowly. I think this all must have happened within three minutes.

Thus my sweater-dress became a shirt, and more people have seen me change than I'm comfortable with.