The morning after what shall henceforth be known as the Glasgow Catastrophe, we woke up… hopeful. We were heading to the Highlands, and things couldn’t get worse, right? RIGHT? Eh, right. Things didn’t get worse, per se, but they most certainly didn’t get better. We woke up well before sunrise and just a bit bleary eyed, threw on our roadtrip clothes (god bless you, leggings and oversized flannel) (um, on me, not the hubs) and zipped out of the city, en route to Glencoe. Nope, no, wait. First, I tried to put on my boots — one of only two…