It seems that lately, I am so tired at the end of the day that I often get into bed–clothes on. I have a new day job that is really intense. when I get home, I shower, do my hair, put on a pinch of makeup, and go take care of dinner. So when I say that I get in bed fully clothed, that means socks and a bra also.
But life has not always been so crazy.
When life is more…ordinary, I put on PJs before going to bed. My usual sleeping attire is usually some soft snuggly fleece joggers and a t-shirt. I have several of these pants with elastic at the ankles and a dozen shirts. They don’t have to match.
I have had pjs that live on in my memory.
One was from 1975. I loved my pink, zip-front footed pajamas. I can still remember the scuff, scuff, scuff sound that the scruffy plastic bottoms of the feet made as you walked along the carpet or kitchen linoleum.
The other was a soft, dainty white nightie that I got before I got married. It wasn’t sexy. It was flattering. The sleeveless cotton shift had a high yolk at the neckline and a half dozen little buttons down the front. The way it was pleated at the top of the chest was modest, but I often opened the top two buttons to keep things interesting.
I only got rid of the nightgown a few years ago. It was over twenty years old and had spent many of its last years at the bottom of a drawer. It didn’t feel fresh any longer. The white wasn’t crisp. It didn’t make me feel ethereal any longer, it was just kinda dingy.
I would love to be in a place in life where I have a gorgeous nighttime routine. The routine would include meditation, tea, and slipping into pjs that I love. My nightwear would caress my skin and the matching robe will make me think that I’m living like I’m in a movie or something.
But that doesn’t sound much like my life. So I’m not holding my breath.
Fortunately, I can sleep pretty much anywhere, anytime…