“Are you ever going to get out of your pajamas,” my mom asked me as I sat next to her bedside folding sheets that had just come out of the dryer.
For the first time in six days I realized that, indeed, I was still in my pajamas. I hadn’t showered, washed my hair, changed my clothes or put on even the minimum of make-up over the past week. I’m not sure if I brushed my teeth. I didn’t even realize there was a “me” to take care of. My mind was solely on my mom. Plus, my pajamas were comfortable, frankly. If I wasn’t going out, what was the point of getting dressed? And who was my mom to talk? She was in her pajamas, too. It was the start of a 2-week long pajama party and I, for one, wasn’t ready to give up the attire.
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