Welcome To Pajamaville, April 29th

I recently read an article in the New York Times by Sarah Lyall called “We Have All Hit a Wall.” It was a late-stage pandemic update on how so many of us are feeling. The article talked about going through the motions of life and work but remaining “in kind of a fog.” Sarah even interviewed a woman drinking coffee from a mug that read “Apathy Is the Best Whatever.” (Funny but yeah.)

Just the other day I said to Michael, “How is it April already?” as if the time were going quickly when in fact every day seems so long. I know that I completely maximized my sabbatical, or what I’m calling my “gap year” with lots of writing, great sleeping, exercise and house cleaning. But the truth is, sprinkled into that year was unbelievable loss, a complete breakdown of identity, fear, health concerns, a shifting of priorities, and undecidedness about life.

One respondent to a recent NY Times survey related to that article wrote in that no matter how many lists she makes, “I find myself falling back into deep pajamaville.” What a great way to describe it. So welcome to Pajamaville– population me. (Possibly you, and definitely that chick.)

Things for me have certainly improved in many respects. While the panic of job loss is obviously over, now I’m in a position where I’m remote and trying to connect with others. (Not news to many of you that have been doing this for over a year now!) And we have calls and updates and meet online, but since nobody uses their cameras, it’s totally acceptable for me to be in whatever workwear I feel like donning. So Monday could be sweats, while Tuesday could be clean pajamas, and Wednesday could indeed be Tuesday’s once clean pajamas. (Please don’t tell my Mother who is undoubtedly reading this right now and not kvelling. Translation: not feeling happy and proud.) Hey, Mom? Peace, Love and Pajamas!

I was even joking with my friend Robyn that for my upcoming business lunches I’m sure I could wear the same exact outfit to all of them because I’d only be out for an hour each time, and I’d be at different restaurants, so there would be no overlap, and I could change back into “house clothes” the minute I returned home. (Isn’t the concept of a 50s housecoat so appealing right now??) So other than the odd stares from my doorman that I’d be doing a step and repeat (sans the red carpet) with the same clothes every time I actually left the apartment building, the only person it would negatively affect is my dry cleaner– a total nightmare for him if I reuse an outfit.

The pandemic has taught us all a lot about ourselves, being comfortable and adapting to a new environment. And even if our personal surroundings were already used for one thing, they are now possibly multi-purpose spaces. Breaking out of pjs for a business lunch does seem momentarily appealing. But so does jumping right back into comfy clothes the minute I close the deal. So from my Pajamaville zip code to yours, I hope your inside clothes and your outside outfits are super soft, stretchy and can withstand the impending restaurant breadbasket at lunch, even if you’re smart and pass. (See, Mom– sometimes I do listen!)