Sundays and pajama sets
It is a braless, serene Sunday, with all the men in my life dozing in different corners of the house. Tenzing has found a comfortable, shady spot in the reading room; Jeff is belly-down, snores-up in the master bedroom; and Edmund, having despaired of actually being helpful to me, has bathed himself to sleep on top of the guest bed, cheerfully dousing the dark green comforter with loose bits of off-white belly fur.
Edmund may not have been the brightest kitty in his litter, but he knows, with the intrinsic absolutism of feline knowledge, that my setting up the ironing board and scattering sewing implements on the bed means that I will, without a doubt, return.All he has to do is lie on top of the fabric and wait.
As soon as the dryer finishes drying the rest of the fabric I bought, I'll begin.
I wandered north to Tennessee to case out Sir's Fabric store, to see if I could find the fabric I needed to begin on my costume for Bill's All Saints Day party. I found many fabrics, some of them terrifying and all of them wholly unsuitable for my first foray into costume garb. I would have chalked the trip up as a lost cause were it not for the blue, shimmery fabric I'd found stashed away at the $2.99 table.
Pajamas, I thought. The pants would be a quickie job, a top a little longer, and if I were lucky, I might have enough fabric to make all or part of a second set.
These things appeal to me. Longer pants and a sleepshirt for lounging, and shorts and a sleeveless shirt for sleeping. Having a pajama set whose parts can be swapped around, depending on the weather, appeals to me. I dislike being mummified in excessive clothing while sleeping, but when staying with friends, I like being able to choose whether nor not the scars on my upper arms are displayed for the world to see.
(We are defined as much by what we reveal as what we conceal.)
I have two hours before my decisions must be made: go to Kat and Sean's gathering, or stay home? I'd like to get the blue material cut out, and perhaps even start on the assembly, but I know that if I go to Kat and Sean's, I will go in my technicolor feline pajamas and sandals, and the wearing of the technicolor feline pajamas presumes that I have finished up the change of elastic that they currently require.
My first choice of elastic was too small. ½-inch or ¾-inch, whichever I purchased the other night, will be better. It's an easy fix, and a quick one, but one that's necessary before I'm willing to call them well and truly finished. Perhaps I could work fast, and finish both the repair work and the new sewing, but Sundays and pajama sets merit slow, careful work, delicately interspersed with the occasional scritch and cuddle.
It's possible that I won't attend tonight's shindig. I am tired from yesterday's trip, and I'm not certain that my body has entirely forgiven my ingestion of some unintendedly-terroristic foodstuff within the past 48 hours. Placed in that context, tonight's Pizza Dinner and Vodka Retrospective perhaps might not be the best choice for me.
Perhaps, instead, pajamas.
Current music: Dave Matthews Band, Busted Stuff