I'm beginning to feel like an Edwardian lady, what with all this changing of attire on go-to-town days. Bibbies for barn work, jeans and a clean top for the doctors' office (they're only interested in my upper half), back to bibbies to put the kids to bed, and lastly a nightie. It also makes for a mountain of laundry. The dog gets depressed when I put on a bra because she knows I'll be leaving. Living alone as I do, I don't bother anymore at home. The bib on bibbies hides a multitude of sins and/or deficiencies and, at my age, nobody looks anymore anyhow. That implement of torture is the first thing off when I get home. Ahhh!
Monday appointments are going to take longer, as that's "see the doctor" day. Yesterday I was informed that they want to extend treatment for an additional week for targeted booster radiation. On finding that it would "boost" chances by only a degree or two, I declined. All this changing clothes is getting to me.
I'm running late, the computer keeps locking up, I've got feed to unload from the truck, and I've got to get dressed.