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Now that I am in full-time employment and do not live in the Arctic circle (I believe The Mom’s house has been moved there this winter, judging by the expletive-ridden emails I get that describe blizzard after blizzard) I find myself having to get dressed every day. This is not an ideal situation for me. I’m not a fan of Pants Tuesday, or any other day for that matter. One of my favourite things about going home to visit is the fact that I can wear, and do, my old green pants (that are now several sizes too big) whatever crappy t-shirt is close to hand, and my fuzzy grey bathrobe. Or my swimsuit, depending on the season.

This is a luxury that cannot be overstated. Rolling out of bed, downstairs to make a coffee, having a morning whizz round the block (I switch the bathrobe for a jacket usually) and then back to my room, with my laptop for several hours of writing and or reading the internet. It is, unreservedly, bliss. I often think I would be able to do my current job ever so much better if I was able to do it from home, in my track pants. Without a bra on. Binding these things are, ghastly in the extreme.

And the time it takes to get showered and pick out a clean outfit that matches and does not have holes or suspicious stains or burn marks on it is time consuming and quite frankly taxing on every level. It’s certainly not the best thing to do upon waking up. And yet, every day, that’s what I do. Because I leave the house now. I am one of those people. And in many ways I feel as though I have betrayed my better self. Sure, I have a job and earn money, but what price freedom!

When The Mom told me that everyone had managed to get dressed one day recently, the Pants Tueday in question, I immediately recalled my wintry days living at hers. How horribly cold it was. And we had a mild winter that year. I felt the distinct burn of dry skin, how every inch of your body is desperate for moisture, and how twitchy you get after spending the better part of five months essentially held hostage by winter in your own home.

True, it does wear you down and after a certain point even I was looking forward to going out, but I remember once spring hit, and I made the necessary arrangements to go out and be social. I got dressed and everything. It was weird and I found myself much happier when I was back home, in my  old faithful track pants and bathrobe.

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