At 9:15 AM, I leave our flat in my "wind outfit": North Face jacket cinched around my head, wellies, and umbrella in hand. I make it one block before I decide to turn back to my warm and inviting bed. Roof tiles, branches, and garbage twirl around in the air, head-level. I don't want to make my debut in news as the girl who got knocked out by a roof tile. I try to take just one more step, and it's me versus the Scottish wind.
Back under the covers, I phone work and the roof has come off the Meerkat enclosure. We're not opening until noon. Getting ready for work and then finding out you can go in late is almost as exciting as a school delay. Except, money is at stake.
Garrick and I walk to town around 11:30, get coffee and then I'm back behind my little desk in the gift shop, reading.
The title of our blog, "Wind, Wellies, and Water Closets," could not have been more accurate. When thinking of the title, I used wind merely for alliteration purposes and pictured more romantic wind. I don't know what that is, maybe the kind of wind that blows leaves around gracefully and wisps your hair ever so slightly. Not the kind that makes your eyes water, ties knots in your hair, and propels your neighbor's garbage at your head.
So this ends my post about the weather. And I think I need to change my blog title to, "Tornadoes, Wellies, and Water Closets." If you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe BBC: