Grotty Friday

There's something deliciously naughty about staying in your pajamas all day. It feels rebellious, bohemian, anti-social, creatively artistic. Or, as my husband so aptly pointed out, just grotty.

I spent the entire day yesterday in my pajamas. It wasn't premeditated. I had a late night, woke up about 9-ish (not my idea, but that of two impatient dogs slobbering over my pillow and pawing me for attention) and after letting the dogs out headed for my office. Lucky for me, my office is located just across the hall from the bedroom. It's not like I drove downtown and waddled into a room full of co-workers with un-brushed teeth and bed hair or anything. Anyway, once I started checking emails and making a list of tasks and returning phone calls and such, before I knew it, it was time for my daily session of Tai Chi. Tai Chi works well when you have flowered pajama pants on. Comfy. After Tai Chi, oh look at the time, it's time for lunch.

Lunch is always at the coffee table in the lounge accompanied by television during the weekdays. It's the only time I can wrestle the TV remote from my husband, whose evenings are spent relaxing after a long day at work watching sports, crime shows or the Biggest Loser. Don't ask me why. So it was me and John Nettles and Midsommer Murders and a chef salad. And an ever hopeful Labrador, Tuscan, staring vigilantly at every move of the fork, just on the off chance that something tasty will fall to the floor and I'll ask him to vacuum it up for me since I'm too lazy to pick it up myself and throw it away. Labradors are handy like that.

After lunch it's back to the office to sort out various plans for future shows, investigate some theatres on line, answer more emails and outside to the laundry room to throw a load of towels in the washer and throw a few tennis balls for our over active red Kelpie, Nani. Then it's time to reward myself with a couple of rounds of the latest Hidden Object game online. Love those.

Before you know it, hubby's home and we chat about his day before he heads into his office to deal with a few work details of his own. At this point I'm thinking I should really get changed and I really need to wash my hair. But instead I head to the kitchen to make dinner, and after dinner what's the point, my hair won't dry before bed time. If I sleep on damp hair I will get up with my hair looking very close to Elsa Lancaster's in Bride of Frankenstein minus the white streaks. So I make a sink full of hot soapy water, put the dinner dishes in and head back to my office. I get on line to check the newspapers from Honolulu to keep up with what's happening in the old home town then remember the towels are still in the washer. Run out and put them in the dryer, then back to the kitchen to do the dishes. After that, I finish the first of two library books I got last week and then it's time for bed. And conveniently, I'm already in my pajamas.

What a great day. I really enjoyed that.

Of course, today I have to boil those pajamas after living in them all day, but oh well. Hair's washed, teeth cleaned, and I'm back in the land of the groomed and appropriately dressed. Ah, well. All good things must come to an end.