P.j.'s and retirement
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Does retirement mean that one stays in one's p.j.'s until noon? All you retirees out there, I talking to you. Do you find that the morning is nearly gone, and you are still sporting your pajamas? My husband and I have even been wondering if p.j.'s are the new "day wear" articles of clothing that one can wear to just about any place on any occasion. It seems that outfits that looks suspiciously like p.j.'s show up everywhere.
I'm not admitting to what time of day my dear hubby and I have finally gotten dressed lately. Let's just say that we treasure our mornings on the back porch. We head to our comfy porch glider, coffee cup and newspapers in hand, as soon as we roll out of bed anywhere between 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning. An hour or two later, we are usually still there. By roughly 9:00 or 9:30, we've drunk our coffee, eaten our breakfast, read two newspapers, checked our email and facebook accounts via our BlackBerries, admired the roses, commented on the tomatoes, enjoyed the birds seen dipping in the bird bath for a drink or a bath, and thought about actually getting something done.
From my vantage point on the back porch, I can see that I need to deadhead the roses I've admired, trim back the non-blooming delphiniums, pull weeds, or plant the flowers I bought the day before. While thinking of the tasks that need to be done, I am very tempted at that point to leave the porch, walk to the shed, get my gardening tools, my hat and gardening gloves, and get to work before the nice, cool, morning shaded yard gets hot. When I say tempted, I mean, I am tempted to just go work in the yard while still clad in my p.j.'s.
Then, the voice of my grandmother, or someone else who taught me that I should dress appropriately when I am out in public, pops into my head. So far, I've not succumbed to working in the yard in my sleepwear. I've questioned why I shouldn't. After all, I used to garden or work in the yard in my bathing suit. I even have rationalized that gardening in p.j.'s would not offend the neighbors who might see me nearly as much as if I gardened in my bathing suit!
I've even thought about the woman I read about who lived in Boulder and liked to garden nude. Her neighbors did not approve. I haven't considered gardening in the buff, just in my p.j.'s. So far, my long practiced sense of propriety has won out. I change into my shorts and t-shirt before I even pull one weed. I know it is a slippery, downhill slope that leads to never getting out of my p.j.'s until who knows when if I start working outside in them.
I'm not admitting to what time of day my dear hubby and I have finally gotten dressed lately. Let's just say that we treasure our mornings on the back porch. We head to our comfy porch glider, coffee cup and newspapers in hand, as soon as we roll out of bed anywhere between 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning. An hour or two later, we are usually still there. By roughly 9:00 or 9:30, we've drunk our coffee, eaten our breakfast, read two newspapers, checked our email and facebook accounts via our BlackBerries, admired the roses, commented on the tomatoes, enjoyed the birds seen dipping in the bird bath for a drink or a bath, and thought about actually getting something done.
From my vantage point on the back porch, I can see that I need to deadhead the roses I've admired, trim back the non-blooming delphiniums, pull weeds, or plant the flowers I bought the day before. While thinking of the tasks that need to be done, I am very tempted at that point to leave the porch, walk to the shed, get my gardening tools, my hat and gardening gloves, and get to work before the nice, cool, morning shaded yard gets hot. When I say tempted, I mean, I am tempted to just go work in the yard while still clad in my p.j.'s.
Then, the voice of my grandmother, or someone else who taught me that I should dress appropriately when I am out in public, pops into my head. So far, I've not succumbed to working in the yard in my sleepwear. I've questioned why I shouldn't. After all, I used to garden or work in the yard in my bathing suit. I even have rationalized that gardening in p.j.'s would not offend the neighbors who might see me nearly as much as if I gardened in my bathing suit!
I've even thought about the woman I read about who lived in Boulder and liked to garden nude. Her neighbors did not approve. I haven't considered gardening in the buff, just in my p.j.'s. So far, my long practiced sense of propriety has won out. I change into my shorts and t-shirt before I even pull one weed. I know it is a slippery, downhill slope that leads to never getting out of my p.j.'s until who knows when if I start working outside in them.
