Day Thirteen of Twenty.
Who says 13 is an unlucky number?
Third times the charm. We finally secured the two hundred pounds from the bank. We celebrated with kebabs, cheesy chips, and shopping. I’ve come to realize that the rain has a strange effect on my travel partner. It’s either the rain or three years of memories flooding back. Or maybe it was just walking with wet feet. Regardless, I was fairly certain that I did not want to hike down to some canal with my own wet feet. I gave it the benefit of the doubt… maybe it was a beautifully scenic canal. But it wasn’t.
We walked back along Gilmore street. I felt like a stalker. Ruby promised me that I wasn’t. But it didn’t stop my eyes from darting to every tall dark haired man in a jacket. I was very much a stalker. We decided to take the bus back home. God in heaven, it felt good to sit down. We passed the H&M. Despite our ragged, wet-dog appearance and sour moods, we couldn’t resist. We popped in and tried everything on. Why does shopping have this calming effect? Spending money terrifies me. I hate to part with large amounts at a time.
We met Ruby’s old friend, Pam, at Ecco Vino. “Here is wine.” Nice. Was anyone even going to drink wine? I would. I needed a night away from beer. Pam was awesome, hilarious, magnificent. It was the most I laughed since Thursday. Good, hearty, making fun of people, ab crunching laughter. Where was Pam on Saturday? We laughed all the way home. I made toast and Ruby checked email. There was a reply waiting from the very improper and embarrassing email I had regretted sending. Crap. I looked at Ruby. She scowled at me and told me to stop laughing. Then I ate my toast.
Day Thirteen of Twenty. Peedy Pam and toast. Yes.