• Annie Dear: I am one hot little number in my new jammies

  • Now that we are in the dead, so to speak, of winter, certain adjustments need to be made in the clothing department, I find.

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  • Now that we are in the dead, so to speak, of winter, certain adjustments need to be made in the clothing department, I find.
    First of all – with a brief a note to all you young lovelies who totter off to work in your nose-bleed high heels and your skinny shirts – it is cold, my darlings. I know it’s warm in your house, and it’s warm at the office, and indeed it’s warm in your car.
    However, if you slide off the road and are left to the over-harried rescuers to get to you in time, your Jimmy Choo slinky shoes and your multi layered T-shirts are not going to be overly helpful when it’s 15 out and you have a couple of hours to wait for your white knight to gallop in riding his tow-truck.
    I hit a bit of a snaggeroonies in my jammie department the other day. I realized that my brushed cotton jammies appeared to gain small and very sharp teeth at night and I end up waking myself up in a muck sweat.
    I would evidently feel the need for a turn, so turn I would, but my piranha jammies took the duvet cover with them, so I was ultimately cocooned in about a hundredweight of eider-duck feathers and found myself to be quite a tawdry, sweaty and overheated butterfly.
    That naturally led to my flinging the duvet off with wild abandon, only to find a little while later that I was freezing my tush off, and so thence my snaggle-toothed jammies would repeat the process.
    I therefore decided that I needed slippery toothless jammies, so I found a pair in satin. Oh and didn’t they feel nice! Finding them to be soft as a baby’s bum, I smugly donned my heavy fleece robe, and let me tell you I was as snug as a kitten in grandma’s knitting basket.
    Oh how I wish I had the talent of thinking that one tiny little step further than I normally do. I immediately come up with a solution, and full of my own brilliance, that’s as far as I get.
    If I did have that 20/20 foresight, I wouldn’t have done what I did.
    A combination – a small hint for you novices who haven’t achieved my great age and therefore wisdom – of satin + fleece = static electricity.
    Good Lord. I find the satin parts of my wardrobe creeping inexorably to bits which frankly shouldn’t be crept at, and my poor darling husband is bearing the brunt of it all.
    I think my slippers have become quite trendy, in lighting up each time I step in them. I’m apparently quite festive around the house, sparking as I do. But touch my darling Sir?
    Page 2 of 2 - Oh Lord… I’m frightened I’m going to set him on fire.
    Zzzzzt – oh dear, there he went.
    Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at anniedearkc @hotmail.com.