I went out today to run some errands.
One of things I meant to do was stop by the Target that's downtown and pick up a few loaves of bread, since we eat bread with everything in this house.
...I shouldn't be allowed to set foot in Target.
Within the first five minutes, my good, responsible self has run off in stark raving terror, and the bad, money-spending me is left in charge.
I went for bread, and I left with bread, chopsticks, teacups, metal basket organizers, and pajamas.
God damned bargain bins by the door got me again.
And then there were the pajamas.
I need to explain:
I have an unhealthy obsession with pajamas.
I have a pajama fetish.
There. I've said it.
It's so bad; I can't control myself. Everytime I see soft, comfy, cuddly pjs, I am drawn to them helplessly. I lose myself for hours browsing though the racks of jersey and flannel and cotton, the elastic and drawstrings, the sets and singles. Medium, Large, XLarge, XXLarge. Pastel Easter egg colors and cutesy patterns of duckies and roses. Boxer shorts or pants? Long sleeve, short sleeve, straps?
Sexy silky black satin bottoms with flames up the sides; dreamy dark midnight blue velveteen with pale yellow stars and moons that hugs your curves, the pants flaring out at the bottom like bellbottoms; spaghetti-strapped camisole tops frothing with peach lace and edged with ribbon; cute pseudo-boxers that show strong clean-lined legs and a matching oversized t-shirt top; the no-nonsense straight-line comfort of men's style nightware.
I fuckin' love pajamas.
It takes a strong-willed co-shopper to safely wrangle me away from them without me clinging to a pair in desperation, crying, "But I need to have them!"
But if, like today, I am alone, I can drool over the pjs for as long as I want, my resistance slowly crumbling like the shore of Cornwall into the Atlantic-- or, if, again, like today, the pjs are on sale...well, the resistance is nonexistent from the get-go.
I do have some limits though.
I never pay more than six bucks for my pjs.
I walked out of there with two new sets (5.48$ and 3.98$) and a nightgown (2.98$). Yeah, buddy. I rock, and I know it.
And now I am happily sitting around in a new pair of thick jersey cloth long sleeved cream-colored pjs, simple and plain except for the bit of cream and raspberry lacing at the collar.
Admit it; you're jealous of my badass pajamas.
It's ok; I understand.