I think I am in the wrong season, again.

Standing in line for the shuttle bus yesterday in my corduroy fleece lined jacket, I noticed all these young things in their camis with that requisite band of belly peeking out and had one of those moments when I believed everyone else had been issued a manual and I was, once again, hiding behind the door. It was chilly, really. And they did know something, because by the time I trudged back to the shuttle, it was warm. Not shirtsleeves warm, not for me, but not chilly any more. Just one of many instances when I questioned my reality. Like the last trip to (soul-sucking) Safeway for broccoli, and ice cream, of course. The shopping cart had a cup holder. Very handy, as there was a Starbuck's tucked into one corner of this enormous supermarket, as well as a Wells Fargo Bank, not just a counter, a whole bank. Add that to the drugstore and the bakery, and I only need a Gap outlet to complete my happiness. Wonders in merchandising. Anyway, today I am in my cami, with a fleece top over it. Right out of the manual.