I plan to spend the first week in January in the city where it’s warm and there are alleged to be these things called “hot showers” I’ve heard about.
This is a big deal. I haven’t been further from the Gulch than day trips to the big town about 50 miles away since December 2010. Got back just in time for the coldest winter in 30 years and damn near froze. But still, it seems like the thing to do. It would be quite an understatement to say that Uncle Joel has gotten a bit hidebound. I expect to be whining for home by Tuesday.
So I’m laying in bed this morning, thinking procedural thoughts. What does one wear to a ‘city,” anyway. Do I have any of that? Should I bring a long gun or can I borrow one from Ian? Of course I didn’t even agree to go for sure until I had worked out care provisions for the chickens, and LB will come with me. But…hey. What did I used to do about packing clothes? I couldn’t even remember at first.
Once I used to travel quite a lot, and I did own a set of luggage. The carry-on now holds my medical stuff, so I could free that up. But what happened to the suitcase?
Huh. Those are going straight to the thrift store, next trip to town. Now: I wonder if this suitcase will clean up, or if I should just drag my ALICE ruck out of the powershed?