(No photo for obvious reasons)
This morning I woke up to an unusual chill in the air. Or should I say unaccustomed? Whatever it was, it was cold. I had to haul out my long and by now horribly unbecoming dressing gown, the sort of item I would SO not have been caught dead in when I first met my husband. Back then I used to twirl around in as little as possible. Now, body racked by the various aspects of my life (age & children), I wear my dressing gown around the house without so much as a passing wince at the shabby cloth, stained by salve, jammy but loving mouths, and latté foam. Sometimes I even have my wet hair in a towel, turban style (gasp!). And yes, before you ask, I DO look like a slob. And what's worse, I even joke about it with my friends; I call us House Sluts, a term I like because it brings to mind a certain Rogue Housewife element, something I am sorely lacking at times. Some days my life is so consumed with the mundane details brought by unexciting interruptions like food preparation ("What? You just ate 4 hours ago"), hostage negotiation ("Max, stop stashing the Lego."), conflict negotiation ("Just stop talking, right now, all of you!"), and finally, rampant consumerism ("No, you can NOT go to the Dollar Store just because"). My House Sluttishness manifests itself primarily in my distressingly dull morning attire, but an Attitude can speak a thousand words. Don't worry, I won't break out into a Helen Reddy song or anything. I'm content with my dressing gown. For now...
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