I happen to think…
…that the 1930s are the perfect place to start a search for a bathrobe.
The mornings these days, they are light enough to afford a lap of the acreage before dressing for the office. However, I’m already tired of super-early-to-work guy who lives down the street seeing me in my pajamas on his way out to beat the traffic.
If one has to be caught gauging bloomage of one’s fruit trees with bed hair, one asks if perhaps being wrapped in something pink, floor-length and shaggy would be more magnificent. The answer, of course, is “yes, always.”
Bill says I look like I belong in a hip-hop video. Whatever, Bill. I say there’s not ENOUGH about mornings that fits that description. Early Commute Guy agrees with me, or he doesn’t. But he’s totally in for it starting tomorrow.