One of the unexpected benefits of being a retiree for two months last fall and a semi-retiree now was being introduced by my friend Rochelle to a delightful retiree benefit known as "Pajama Day."
It can either be a continuation thing, like getting up from bed and staying in your PJs until that night, or it can be an on-and-off thing, especially in retirement residences where there's a communal breakfast, lunch or dinner. In those cases, you dress for meals, then slip back into your pajamas when you return to the privacy of your abode.
Personally, I like the continuation thing, because it means I don't have to put on makeup or comb my hair or even be pleasant, but I think these benefits accrue only if you live alone.
Until I learned of this marvelous retiree benefit, I thought the only time a person could justifiably spend an entire day in nightgown or pajamas was when either sick or fresh home from a honeymoon.
I haven't done a lot of research on this, but from what I've picked up in front-yard conversations, this ritual seems to be mostly a female thing. I could be wrong on this, but I haven't met a retired gentleman yet who will admit to staying in his jammies all day unless he's under doctor's orders. (Not being a Peeping Tomasina, I haven't personally been able to check this out with my own eyes.)
I also thought it was a single-female thing, until my wise male friend Tom disabused me of this notion. "Lots of guys come home from work at the end of the day and find their wives in their bathrobes," he confided. But I'm betting that most of them have to comb their hair and put on a reasonably pleasant face, too. Or not.
I also thought it was a "woman of a certain age" thing, but young male colleagues and relatives put me straight on that one, too. It seems especially popular among young women who have their offices at home. This is just hearsay, but I'm told that some live and work in their nighties for days at a time, though I suppose if you wear them all day they're not really "nighties," are they?
This isn't to imply that Pajama Days mean getting nothing done. You can still dust, vacuum, clean out closets, talk on the phone, work jigsaw puzzles, read a book, work on your income tax return or mentally solve the world economic crisis. Oh, yeah, and take naps. That's an important part.
I sometimes spend some Pajama Day time composing "Dear Abby" letters in my head, asking about situations that vex me. Like, when you have houseguests, do you adjust the thermostat to please them, or leave it where it pleases you?
Another benefit of Pajama Day is that it gives an incredible feeling of freedom. Like one Friday, I was having a big bowl of roasted red pepper sauce over thin spaghetti for breakfast, only I noticed it was 12:10 p.m., which I guess isn't really breakfast.
I can also watch "Judge Judy" on television without feeling guilty I'm not enriching my intellect. (Jerry Springer is another matter altogether; staying at an intellectual neutral point is one thing -- moving backward shouldn't be an option.)
Some people set aside a certain day to be Pajama Day. I like more spontaneity myself.
Indeed, flexibility is an important thing once you hit a certain age, don't you think?
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service www.scrippsnews.com)
Column
Post new comment