Melancholy me

The sun had been hiding behind a blanket of grey all morning on September's final Sunday, which felt strangely at odds with the 20°C indicated by the thermometer. I'd been making a half-hearted attempt at starting my seasonal wardrobe changeover, but so far I had only switched sandals for ankle boots. The task felt quite beyond me so I sighed and gave up, thinking there would be gloomier and thus far more suited days ahead to get on with this cumbersome job. Sometimes I think my life would be a lot easier without my mega-maximalist wardrobe, but what would be the fun in that, I wonder. Days like these, when I can't seem to settle to anything, often seem...