Pyjamas

Yeah, I don't have any pictures of my pyjamas (you're welcome). Have a dead leaf instead.

Anyway, let's talk pyjamas.

No, I'm not kidding.

I love my pyjamas. Not because they're anything special -- in fact, the vast majority of my pyjamas can trace their ancestry back to decidedly unpremium stores -- but simply because they're my pyjamas.

I spend a fair amount of time in my pyjamas. They go on pretty much the moment I get home from work, and if I'm already in them it takes a lot of convincing to get me dressed again. Say you call me up on the spur of the moment and ask me if I feel like catching a movie or something. My answer, nine times out of ten and even if I really like you, is most likely going to be "but I'm in my pyjamas...".

There is nothing wrong with that.

Seriously.

You see, my pyjamas aren't so much pyjamas as they are my personal signal that I'm done with the world for the day. I come home, I get into my pyjamas, and my time belongs to me. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do because I'm in my pyjamas. It all makes sense when you think of it that way.

At least it does to me.

I'll admit, there are times when I don't really even want to leave the house. I like being by myself, I like not having to put up with the world's noise, and frankly sometimes it takes a lot of effort for me to want to be around people. It's not to the point where I'm in danger of being that weird old eccentric who never goes outside, has everything delivered, and lives with stacks of old magazines and twenty-eight cats (maybe someday, if I'm lucky...), but I do like my me time. I'm beginning to think that maybe my pyjamas and their rich symbolistic life of LEAVE ME ALONE are kind of like my reward for getting through the day. Go to work, talk to your friends, be nice to the visitors, and after you're done with all of that your pyjamas will be waiting for you!

Ok, maybe that last bit sounded weirder than it needed to.

We all have our coping retreats though, right? Some people paint. Some people play video games. Some people immerse themselves in books or music. Some people, on the more extreme end of things, do drugs or become alcoholics. When you look at how far things could go, spending time in pyjamas is a pretty harmless way to help maintain one's sanity.

Well, I think so.

And after all: my house, my rules. And according to my rules, we're all allowed to wear our pyjamas at my house.

Not out of it, though. As much as I like my pyjamas, my pyjamas will never be streetwear. After all, if my pyjamas are my symbol of alone-time away from the world, then wearing pyjamas out in the world is kind of like giving the entire world a big gigantic finger. I'm here but I'm not here, if you know what I mean. There may be a time in my life when I decide to do just that, I guess, but for now I choose to remain a part of the world and keep my pyjamas to themselves. Safely at home, waiting for me to finish the work day...




This is a slightly strange post, isn't it? Ah well. You get what you pay for. And if I want to continue to have money to pay for anything I need to get back to work now.

So I can see my pyjamas later, I guess.