Yesterday afternoon I needed to run an errand in Brunswick, and since I was right there, I stopped at Wal-Mart for dog food. I have very mixed feelings about Wal-Mart, and in fact sent my friend Katharine a text right after (to which you have not yet responded, K, if you're reading this) to ask whether shopping at Wal-Mart is immoral. But that's a post for another day, and in the meantime I'm grateful to Wal-Mart for cheap vitamins, 20-lb. bags of dog food, and frozen dinners that only cost a dollar.
Anyway, it was about 4:30 in the afternoon, but by the time I left the store, I wondered whether I'd had some time fugue and lost seven hours.
For one thing, it was dark when I left the store; not twilight, dark. Nighttime dark. This happens every year, right around this time, and it shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does. Night falls between 4:00 and 4:30. By 5:00, it's as dark as it gets. It'll be this way until March.
But more to the point of today's post, I noticed several people shopping in what appeared to be pajama bottoms. Not fancy Perle Mesta-style hostess pajamas, but flannel trousers with prints of puppies or hearts on them.
When did this become okay? I mean, I understand needing to make a run in the middle of the night or very early in the morning, and not wanting to go to the trouble of putting on a full suit of clothes. But at 4:30 in the afternoon? How lazy do you have to be? How much harder is it to pull on a pair of sweatpants?
See, I'm not a snob about this stuff. I work at home; I wear sweatpants. I leave the house in sweatpants, though I'm not proud of that. But sweatpants, at least, suggest that I might have come from or be going to the gym (don't laugh, it's happened).
Pajamas, on the other hand, say, "I've just gotten out of bed. I'm just about to go back to bed. This is the most extreme case of sleepwalking I've ever suffered."
Maybe it's just gotten too easy to get an Ambien prescription.