Chinese Smoking Jacket

Five minutes after Patrick left this morning, it started pouring down rain. I have taken this as evidence that despite the absense of Patrick I am not required to get out of bed today, or at the very least my pajamas. It is true that I have plans this evening, but I shall either violate social norms by continuing to wear my pajamas or I shall break by own new rule of "no changing out of pajamas" by changing out of my pajamas. In either case, I imagine I shall be titilated by my own daring on the subject of rules and my history of manipulating them to my own ends.

My stance on pajamas is not a new one. Past summers, I have gone for a week on end wearing only pajamas, and when I was a small child there was a period of three months in which I don't believe I ever wore proper clothes. A more recent example took place at the height of the pants fiasco when I flatly refused to wear anything but my kung fu pajamas until such time as I was granted an explanation for my unclothedness.

(So far, the best I've gotten is: this world was not made for you.)

When I spare the time to think, I am fascinated by my obsession with pajamas, given that I don't actually sleep in them if I can avoid it. I believe I will muse on this, perhaps over a cup of tea, while fingering my pipe. While I doubt I will come to a conclusion, I will nevertheless scowl softly and make a lot of "hmmmm"ing noises in the hollow of my throat.

Possibly I will later take a bath, thus eschewing both clothes and pajamas for a goodly period, but not while there is lightning.