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Earlier this week I crossed a line I should not have crossed. I drove my son, and two of his friends, to school... in my pyjamas. I was scolded by my child who said he’d been traumatized by the experience.
Before getting to the whys and wherefores of the severe lowering of my standards, I have three things to say in my defense.
First, I wore a long, black housecoat over the pyjamas, which, if seen in a blurry haze from a passing car might have been mistaken for an overcoat. Second, the kids were lucky to get a ride because I could have made them walk in the rain. And third, my son can at least be grateful I didn’t also have rollers in my hair. That would have made the drop-off infinitely more embarrassing for everyone.
Now, to the bigger problem: the loss of dignity stemming from my unfortunate wardrobe choice is yet more fallout from my working from home on a full-time basis.