Pig’s Ears and Pajamas

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Christmas brought a few surprises. Among them, the thing I least want to touch–a cured pig’s ear for our Chihuahua. (Who knew the elves run a pig’s ear processing plant up at the North Pole?)

The big surprise for the humans was a new onesie from my sailor. (That romantic devil!)

We had company staying with us over the holidays and when I opened his present, he explained the unusual choice of gift.

“She bought herself a onesie a few weeks ago and wears it so often it never gets washed! Now she has one to wear while the other one’s in the laundry.”

“Uh–thanks, honey!”

(For the record, this is so not true. Although I love my onesie, I do wash it regularly.)

One final Christmas gift arrived after the big day:
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Fruitcake’s not my favourite, but this one’s soaked in brandy–mmm.

The Onesie

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I’m always cold.

I don’t like being cold, but I’m too environmentally conscious (read cheap) to turn the thermostat to a comfortable level. In practical terms this means we bundle up–way up–through the long Canadian winter.

Imagine my delight when I discovered the perfect article of indoor cold weather clothing–the adult onesie! This baby wraps me in plush teddy bear softness from scalp to slender ankles. (On the flip side, imagine my sailor’s “delight” when I began wearing my all-encompassing fur suit to bed.)

As I go about my daily routine, I find myself wishing I had my cozy onesie on instead of my day clothes. If only I’d found it in time for Halloween, I could’ve attached ears and a tail and worn it to work for one glorious day!

Recently I discovered the onesie’s only negative quality–it’s impossible to get out of in a hurry.

The contractor we’ve hired to address our house issues turned up almost an hour early this morning.

He knocked on the front door as I was sipping my first coffee of the day. The Chihuahua (never a morning person at the best of times) quivered bleary-eyed, woofing in his general direction. Me? I raced to the bedroom fumbling with the three-foot zipper that bisects the front of my darling onesie so I could climb out of it and get dressed before facing the tradesman.

Sigh, perhaps the onesie is best reserved for lazy weekend mornings when I can lounge around for hours like a content teddy bear.