Well, um... yes.
You see, it's 3:30 here, and I've been meaning to write this post since about 9AM. I blame Downton Abbey for that one... and Tom and Lorenzo. Holy moley, that website is addicting. I'd hyperlink to it but I don't want to get sucked back in. Just Google it, darlings, and consider me well versed in the ins and outs of celebrity high fashion.
You win some, you lose some, and, thank you lord, today is Friday so I'll consider it borderline acceptable. Ladies and Gents, what I wanted to tell you today is that I have gone to battle.
Ahem. Let me clarify: I have GONE TO BATTLE.
This stint over to Japan has brought me into contact with -- for the first time in my little life -- a devilish beast called humidity. Raging, incessant, terrible, no-good humidity. While I've done stints in the Midwest to visit family, I've pretty much been a West Coast girl my entire life: my Colorado hometown butts up against the Utah desert, Spokane sits on high plateau, and Seattle is perma-cardigan weather, all breezy and cool.
I've done 100°+, dry, desert heat. I've done freezing rain cold. I've done rain, even that misty shit that attacks you from under your umbrella. I thought I was made of tough stuff. That I could handle things.
This. This is bad. This is 90% humidity in weather approaching 90° Fahrenheit.
Add to that the on-and-off heavy rainstorms of the tail end of the rainy season. Check out the fourth line from the bottom and you'll see what I mean.
You guys, this is damp. And a little sticky. It's taking a lot of effort, pep-talks, and bribes of iced coffee for me to even leave the house.
I've been learning lessons like One must wash one's gym clothes the minute one returns home. (They stanky, dude.)
And Do not run out of your favorite hairspray because the hair situation was tenuous at best and now it is just tragic.
And Even if those towels have dried on the line all day, don't you dare put them back in the linen closet until they run through the drier because, well, see stanky comment above.
Some of these lessons have come in the hard way. Some I've been able to foresee. Some I've tried and failed to YouTube my way through. (I'm looking at you, hair.) I even went on a goose chase yesterday to try and find Aveda hairspray, only to come home with a container of oatmeal instead. These things happen to new expats, you see, or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
I know that I'll evolve. If one can manage the months of dark that Seattle winters bring, one should be able to stomach a couple months of never fully drying off, right? RIGHT?
Or I'll spend the next couple months avoiding the mirror, chomping down on oatmeal cookies while rounds of laundry cycle in the background, complete with sticky knees and elbows. (Okay, that was a touch dramatic).
Here's to you, September. I'll be ready for you with open arms.
[PS: I just ran downstairs to grab an iced coffe and incentivize myself to finish this post and along the way, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yikes. I didn't even know hair could go that puffy. Oh man...]