We are going to the beach this weekend. We are poor and young (although not as young as we used to be) and we can only afford to split a beach house three ways with friends of Dave’s from college. They are bringing their babies and we are bringing booze and we’ll enjoy the sea in spring instead of summer. The mid-Atlantic can’t quite let go of the last of the winter and spring won’t be denied so the weather is twitching madly and I’m bringing scarves and sweaters and shorts and sandals and we’ll see where we end up. In a world where my sunglasses weren’t pinched from my second sister when she left them at my parents over the weekend and where I had remembered to get the battery changed in my Alessi watch I would pack the above. Heavy on Old Navy because we’re poor, remember? Because we are young and you can only get away with wearing Old Navy for so long.
There are massive piles of paper at work and hiring to be done and files to be sorted and I am dreaming of wintery spring sea and coffee and friends. The first lot arrive tonight to take in the District before we caravan to the sea tomorrow. It’s hump day, baby, half way there.
