Pajama Obstacle Course.

The weekends I work dispatch at our local newspaper, my shifts begin before the sun rises—even in the summer. Allowing my hair to air dry as I slept, a comforting habit from childhood, I awoke with a disheveled half swept up style rugged from a night of unsettled tossing about. After working out that my alarm belonged in the world of the droning fan filling the dark room and not to whatever role my unconscious had assigned it, in my quickly fleeting dream state I tumbled out of bed. And stumbled into my hallway—right into my vacuum cleaner. You see, I like to devise early morning death traps for myself to keep nimble. One of my longtime personal favourites being the running shoes in the doorway obstacle course. Ah, how many memories and bruises can be attributed to this game of agility.

I took a large silver can of hairspray from the bathroom counter. Applying a mist over the top of my head, I made a weak effort to smooth the voluminous tousled birds nest into place. Polished wasn’t the look I was after but durability. Sometimes when I wake up and my bangs are sticking straight up, I like to snap a photo of me looking like a cockatoo and send it to random people in my phonebook to say good morning. I think that's a rather pleasant way to wake.

Today I apparently wanted to share my mess of a self with a wider audience. I wore my pajama top to work under a cardigan. I don't think anyone noticed--it looks like a decorative floral tank top. But I knew. And I am an avid protester of anything pajama or too lounge-like in public. When I went to university, I would find myself embarrassed by my fellow schlubs wearing sweat and yoga pants to class. Particularly as I would notice tour groups of potential future students and their parents on campus. I always thought we should have a policy restricting this--with the motto: your bedroom does not extend to the classroom. And signs posted on the back of bathroom stalls: Look like a professional that you are trying to mold yourself into. You see, I've actually thought this through. The administration could publish a schedule of days with tours each semester (with the option to read it online in an effort to go green as well) and send friendly but forceful reminder emails the night before. Any violators would be forced into some session on how to dress like a professional taught by the business school. So it seems strange that I would even step outside my door in half a pajama set. It can only be attributed to my failure as a morning person.

So tomorrow as I zombie-like strut to my taxi cab with sleep in my eyes, I will be sure that I am wearing proper clothing. I may not be one but I do have to coexist with these morning people