Sharing a Hotel Room With A Girlfriend Means You Need to Buy New Pajamas
Last fall I had the opportunity to go on a girl's trip for a weekend and share a room with a friend. Packing for the trip made me realize that what I typically wore to bed may not be suitable for a shared hotel room. That is, unless I didn't mind being seen in my Sleepy ZZ pajamas - my favorite sleepwear that my friend Fran gifted me one birthday about five years ago which I have worn almost every night since.
While it was once a nice sleep set, today it is a pair of faded pants and a frayed tank top with what appears to be drool stains on the front. I swear it's a bleach stain, but it could also be a food stain. I've been told by Big Bill that I sleep with my mouth wide open, most likely to compensate for my eternally plugged nostrils, and I have woken more than once with a puddle on my pillow and my chest that could be menopausal sweat but also drool so I can’t deny the possibility of saliva related discoloration.
So new pajamas were in order.
A few days before the trip I went to, in no particular order: Soma - where I swear that bra lady who ended every sentence with "okay hon" rolled her eyes when she saw me walk in the door and got a whiff of deja vu; Marshalls - where everything felt like cheap, crap-tastic scratchy fabric; Nordstrom - where I was about to snatch the perfect sleep set off the sale rack but someone else beat me to it, depriving me of what might have been the most luxurious pajamas I've ever owned; and finally, Costco - where I scored a soft, inexpensive FOUR PIECE SET (tank top, tee shirt, shorts, and pajama pants) for under $20.
One would not think of Costco as the holy grail of pajama shopping but how can you not love those long tables stacked several feet high with colors and sizes, along with the benefit of one-stop shopping?
After a stupid amount of deliberation, I chose a pajama set with gray and white stripes, that in hindsight reminded me of the guy on the Get Out of Jail Free Monopoly card. But hey, pajamas, a crate of Mountain Dew, and a truckload of Tums for Bill in one fell swoop! Oh, the excitement!
Boy, I remember that day! It was a wonderful afternoon. I was relaxed, enjoying shopping, and was excited to blow out of town with pals. The entire day had a good-time vibe and was really just perfect.
And then it all went to hell when I had time to kill and stopped at the urgent care on my way home to possibly get an antibiotic for what I thought was the beginning of a sinus infection and was utterly horrified to learn that I had COVID and my out-of-town girls trip immediately became NOFNWAY! NOT HAPPENING!
I spent the weekend in the guest bedroom wearing my appropriately themed jailbreak pajamas, looking at things through my narrow lens of boohooing and giving a mental middle finger to COVID.
But looking back, I realize that weekend wasn't so horrible.
Life is funny, in the way it teaches us lessons and how we learn and grow and see negative things in a more positive light as time passes. Sometimes I enjoy reminding myself how wrong I was about a certain situation and then marveling at the lessons I've learned and how far I've come.
Group barf over the cheesiness of that last paragraph.
The truth is, I was a pain-in-the a** that weekend. I sneezed, coughed, bitched, and left a festive spray of germs in my wake while Bill occasionally kicked a tray of sugary snacks into the guest bedroom and prayed I'd shut the heck up.
The only good thing about that weekend was indulging in three of my favorite things - sloth, isolation, and avoiding household responsibilities. Otherwise, it sucked.
Why am I telling this, you ask? Because I woke up this morning with no idea what to write about, noticed a stain on the front of my Sleepy Zee tee and here we are.
I can promise you a semi-interesting blog post a few times a week but there's no guarantee you're getting eloquence.
