Surely I could pop into Kohl's and pick up a nice flannel floral-print granny nightgown with the discount coupon that came in the mail....and don't call me Shirley. A flannel nightie for a Victorian B&B girlfriends' chat and art show weekend seemed just right. But, hey, no, Aung San Suu Kyi, no such thing at Kohl's. Instead, racks and racks of
- neon-colored microfleece woven from fur of tiny sea monkeys forced to live their entire lives in black light.
- cutesy doggie-woggy prints.
- knits that hint at way too much middle-aged anatomy when the bed-headed wearer creeps toward the coffee-maker in early a.m. mixed company, but probably okay if one lives alone.
- dreadful Gypsy Rose Lee Designs Exclusively for Montgomery Wards creations showcased for male gift-shoppers.
- sleepwear made in China, Cambodia, Vietnam. Probably Myanmar, too, if I kept looking.
Poor Hillary. She has to sleep on airplanes across time-zones. Wherever she wakes up there are members of the press between her and the coffeepot, then diplomats and foreign heads of state. She goes home to Bill, and/or Chelsea and Marc. No wonder she has those bags under her eyes.
Time is short, and I still have to pick out an umbrella in the Totes department. I choose some pajamas, check out, and go spoon-feed Dad alleged ground-up sweet & sour chicken. Dad doesn't have to choose his PJs since aides help him into those sleeve-snapping/back-tying hospital gowns way before dark.
Once home, I try on the pajama set. Dang! Hillary and I need to save the receipt. I look like a cross between O, Brother Where Art Thou and an overstuffed bagpipe.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder