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When You Don't Call First

My house is a mess, I am still in my pajamas, I haven't showered yet today, and we're having fast food for dinner.

It's been one of those days.

It hasn't been hectic and busy today, just the usual kind of activities, so I don't really have an excuse.  I just felt the need, as I do every so often, to have a "down day".  I needed a bit of a rest.  So we took care of the normal business of the day without anything fancy.  Like fixing my hair.

Ponytails - what a wonderful invention.

The only problem with having a "Jammies Day" is that it never fails to attract everyone who has any possible business at my address to stop in unannounced for a chat.  Inevitably a perfectly coiffed woman of some sort, or some very nice looking man, or someone that I feel the need to normally be on my best behavior for; will knock at my door for some business that could have been taken care of over the phone. 

While the visitors look at me, eyes wide, I will try to talk to them without raising my arms (Jammies Day are not usually a pretty sight when the Jammies involved have a tank top and I haven't shaved) and while standing down-wind.   I also try to block access to my house, since another integral part of Jammies Day is not doing more housework than necessary to meet the most basic standards for hygiene. 

Sometimes blocking house access can come off as rude, but I usually do try to apologize and explain that it is really for their own good.  I know that my family has built up the necessary resistance to the germs floating around my house at those times when cleaning is not my top priority; but since I can't vouch for the status of anyone else's tetanus shots, it's usually best for everyone involved if we limit exposure to immediate family members.

Probably the absolute worst Jammies Day misadventure was the time the phone lines got crossed and the Base SP's mistakenly thought a 911 call had come from my house - an odd enough proposition as we didn't even bother with a land line at this duty station.  Hairy, smelly, and dressed like a vagrant, I poked my head out the door to six guys in a "stack" (one on either side of my door, one in front, and three down the walkway). 

Somehow, my "What can I do for you," seemed extremely understated.  When they told me that they had to check the situation out, all I could think of to say was, "But it's really gross in there..."

In any case, they did have to come in and search my house.  My filthy house.  And I'm not sure that the house smelled any better than I did.  I think there might have been two days of dirty dishes in the sink and I hadn't bothered to pick up the towels and clothes littering the children's bathroom yet.  I can only hope that the Jammie Day filth hasn't made it's way into Security Forces folk lore.  I would hate to greet the gate guards at the next base we go to only to hear, "So, my wife does some housekeeping if you're interested..."

After that experience I was too scared to have Jammie Days for quite some time.  I had to ease back into it.  One day I cleaned the house, but didn't get dressed up.  Another day I might make myself presentable, but not the house.  Finally I was able to spend a day fully relaxing in all my grungy glory.

Tomorrow, I promise, I will do my hair.  But for today it was perfect to just lounge around.  I truly think it was meant to be - it finally snowed this morning.  Snow, a cup of hot chai, velveteen workout pants, and a good book; tomorrow I'll be ready to go take on the world! 

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