The little things, specifically in relation to a cold flat

So it turns out I'm not very good at packing. By that, I mean that I'm not very good at packing at 10pm when I'm moving the next morning. And by THAT, I mean that my packing was reduced to haphazardly throwing things in a suitcase while muttering "it's only a week, I don't need anything really."
Two days later, here are some things that I have forgotten:

• Runners, rendering the two pairs of tracksuit bottoms I brought with me somewhat useless. I had promised myself that I'd head to the gym this week, but that looks significantly less likely without, you know, shoes.
• Pyjama tops. This I cannot understand. I brought three pairs of pyjama bottoms but inexplicably forgot any of the (numerous) pyjama tops, forgotten band t-shirts, thick jumpers or vest tops that I sleep in. On Saturday night, I was almost strangled by a polo neck I wore out of desperation and last night I was repeatedly scratched by my TCD hoodie. Sigh. It's too cold in the flat to wear anything thinner than seven t-shirts.
• Socks. This I have no excuse for -- who forgets socks?! Socks are necessary for day to day living. Without his socks, Alexander Fleming would have been far too chilly to discover penicillin. Wearing tights under jeans is a pain, I can tell you that. It doesn't work for anybody! 
• I also forgot perfume, candles and enough clothes to get me through the week, but those are a good deal less important, I have to admit. 

Of course, this could not stand. I could not spend my week wearing tights under jeans, nor a poloneck that is trying to kill me. So today I headed to Penney's to pick up some very necessary bits and pieces. I have something of a love/hate affair with Penney's...the clothes hang awkwardly on me and often they seem to ignore the existence of sizes that aren't six or eight. Today was no exception -- there was a striking lack of size twelve anything. That's not the point of this post, though. The point is something wonderful that I bought on a whim. While wandering through the pyjama section, something caught my eye...

"No, Áine, don't be ridiculous, you can't buy slippers"
"But they'd be so comfy. They're only four euro. They're an investment. Save you a fortune in fluffy socks."
"You don't buy fluffy socks"
"Look, four euro! And they're RED! Red is part of your grand design for your bedroom!"

Before I knew it, I was waltzing around my flat in a wonderfully fluffy pair of red moccasin slippers. They're the best thing I've bought in ages. I'm a sucker for fluffy things and a slave to capitalism, what are you going to do? If capitalism warms my feet, I'm going to roll with it.

 

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