Do I Have To?

My lifestyle is largely pajama-based.

(Pajamageddon)

That's the funniest thing I've read all week. Can't get it out of my head. I long for my pajama-based life. And miss it.

I'm half-jammied right now. Makes sense, really. I have a pajama-based life about half the time so right now it's as if I'm in transition between the two.

See, the thing is, I work.

Ugh, I know, but somebody's got to do it. About half the time I can telecommute which is human-resource-speak for "work in my pajamas." In November, I get a big fat break when I can work in my pajamas the entire month.

Sweet jesus, it's heaven.

Oh, and I just got back from Hawaii. Nice.

Fast forward to today, the third of December, a Monday, and I'm back at work. Work, you say? Yes, of the nine-to-five variety. In an office of the no-pajamas variety. But I managed to get through to lunch with no problem and I tend to take lunch late in the day so that by the time I'm done it's nearly quitting time so - yippee - it's all downhill from there.

I got a lot done which is good but I was ready to leave at 5 straight up. But then a friend called.  She needs help sorting out her medicare coverage. God, I love her but I really thought I might read, write, set up the tree, anything but figure out medicare tonight. Sure, I said. Just send over what you have. I'll take a look.

I figured I'd pour myself a glass of wine when I got home and take a look at it. How bad could it be? But then I got home and found I forgot to turn on the dishwasher before I went to work. Wine, no glasses. Where are the straws?

Then, I remembered I had laundry, too. Started a load. Where the hell are those straws?

And it's been raining cats and dogs here lately. Don't ask me how much because I was in Hawaii but it was enough to spring a leak somewhere in the roof. Mental note, call roofer and buy straws.

Finally, I had a moment to sit down a write when, for some strange reason, I realized I didn't have my phone with me. Hunted it down and saw a missed call from my brother. Hurried to call him back because he's pretty elusive. If you miss him, it could be another six months before you catch him. Nice chat...

...during which my husband called. Twice. He's the sweetest guy on earth but I swear to god if he doesn't hear from me every 45 minutes he sort of panics. After the second call, I hung up with my brother, and chatted with my hubby who is out of town for a couple days. Which, by the way, is how I started my Monday - by taking him to the airport at O'Dark Thirty. And as he gave me a kiss goodbye this morning, he asked if I could swing by the car dealership to get new wiper blades.

I think of that moment now - such an innocent request at the time - as I take another swig from the bottle.

To heck with the straws.