Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?
It’s like resting a laundry basket against your hip and suddenly you’re a long-suffering peasant woman, wondering if you’ll survive the winter.
I usually wear just-below-the-knee skirts and am therefore a hardworking stenographer wondering what I can buy on the way home that’s cookable on the hot plate I’ve rigged up in my bedsitter.
Mooncustafer 