Farewell, my old friends

Today I say goodbye to a couple who have stood by me for more than a decade. They met up with me during my first PhD program and have moved across the country with me—several times, whatever the reason.

OK, so the situation’s not really all that dramatic, but today I will be retiring my favorite pajamas. I bought the set from Target: a longish shirt and shorts made of the softest cotton, both in green. They were perfect (and very necessary) for me. I had no pajamas to speak of at the time and was living with roommates. My old tank tops and athletic shorts did some of the work, but real pjs seemed like a good idea. And this set was on sale.

Since I bought them, they have only gotten softer and are just about the nicest thing to have against my skin. But, as will happen, they don’t look so great anymore. The shorts have those spots along the top where the elastic is visible, plus a hole in the back right where I snagged them once. The top is ripped along the left bottom vent; its collar is worn all over with several holes at random intervals. Trillian has been begging me to get rid of them for ages.

And then yesterday morning, as I sat on the couch in my nightshirt, Scooter came out of his room to join me. We cuddled, as we often do. And in the middle of an embrace, he looked at my collar and exclaimed, as he poked a finger in one of the holes “Oh no, your shirt is broken.” I tried to explain to him that sometimes old clothes get like that, but they still can be worn. He, however, was insistent and replied with this: “Maybe I buy you a new one at the shop.” I gave him an extra big hug for that and have been using the anecdote to elicit adoration of my child.

But then we were in Old Navy today, having ended up there on a longish walk. We weren’t looking for anything in particular, but then a nightie caught my eye (specifically the “oxygen” one). I went over to look at it and discovered that it was an amazingly soft material. I turned to Trillian and said, “If you let me get this, I’ll get rid of my green pjs.” She immediately jumped at the suggestion.

Now the silly thing is that if I had simply said, “Oh, I want this,” she probably wouldn’t have batted an eye. Nonetheless, I’ll keep my end of the bargain and repurpose the old pjs (rags or possibly even baby wipes). And maybe Scooter won’t have to worry about his mother wearing “broken” clothing.