Here lay the shredded remains of my favorite flannel pajama pants, much beloved these last several years. Purchased for cheap in a post Christmas sale from my arch nemesis (old navy, with whom I have a love/hate relationship–the clothes sorely tempt me but rarely hold up to the quality standards I would prefer), you nonetheless provided me with many, many nights (and, okay, let’s be honest, DAYS) of comfort and coziness. You defied those that strove to define you as simply another seasonal clothing article–flying reindeers be damned–you marched to the beat of your own drummer and made yourself available and attractive for wearing season after season, winter, spring, summer and fall. You kept me warm when camping. You made me feel less bloated when I was having “one of those days.”
Never a fashion maven, you still projected a certain image, one of comfort rather than slovenliness, even on the mornings that I wore you to dash out to roll the garbage cans to the curb. You didn’t shrink away from the neighbors, but called out, here I am! I am blue reindeer flannel pajama pants and I am not ashamed!
Today when I pulled you from the dryer I knew–just KNEW–that it was time to say goodbye. I have been keeping you here, though your destiny calls, though your elastic waistband is all but useless. I release you onto the great unknown. I grant you the freedom to live on in the way that you find most comfortable now, in the rag pile. I promise to think of you fondly as I mop up spills and clean windows and wooden furniture, because you, dear pajama pants, mean more to me than any old pit-stained former tshirt rag could ever mean.
Farewell, dear friend. May you find comfort and happiness in what lies beyond.
house of waffles.
I dunno – won’t the reminder while cleaning just keep you from moving on and truly committing your heart to another set of pjs?