On Sunday afternoons after worship team rehearsal, morning service and lunch, I try to take a nap. I always put on something comfy for my nap because taking a nap in non-comfy clothes is just wrong on so many levels.
For my comfy clothing selection, I especially like sweat suits. They feel like pajamas, but if your doorbell rings unexpectedly, you can answer the door in your quasi-pajama, napping-ish clothes and no one is the wiser.
So. I took my Sunday nap cozily ensconced in my sweat suit. Ahh.
Then I got up, put on my fuzzy socks and puttered around the house for a little while. Ahhh again.
Then Steve took Sarah to youth meeting. I puttered some more. Continued ahhh.
Then Sarah called and said she needed a ride home. Since Steve had the Dropping Off Duty, I elected myself for the Picking Up Duty. But it was a wee bit chilly outside, so I pondered the coat closet selection for a moment before finally settling on a gray, fur-like coat someone in the church had passed along to me. I’d been wanting to find a time to wear it and so I thought, “What better time than now?”
So I plopped the dressy coat on over my sweat suit. And then I realized that I couldn’t go out on the cold sidewalk with just fuzzy socks on, so I put some gold flip flops on over the fuzzy socks to keep the bottoms of my delicate little feet from getting frostbite from our wickedly cold, bitter Southern winters.
And then I grabbed my “mom purse” and I was good to go.
I picked Sarah up, brought her home and we got out of the car to go into the house. She glanced over at me to say something and then looked again. A little closer.
And she said something like, “Um. Mom, do you know how you’re dressed?”
What? The girl doesn’t think her mama is rockin’ this style?
I just don’t know what’s wrong with this younger generation.