I have the best intentions when it comes to pajama days. I think they're a great idea, and I want to embrace them. But every time I try to have one, I fail. I end up going out, doing chores, or just having a normal day, no matter how hard I try to stay at home relaxing.
So today, my first day off at home in almost two weeks, I am having an enforced pajama day.
I wouldn't have even chosen this. But this cold that's whomped me upside the head has pinned me with exhaustion and an awfully stopped-up nose, so I guess my body is making me take a day off. (The worst part is that it's not even that bad. If this had been a work day, I would have gone in and I would have been okay being miserable there. It's not the flu. It's just a cold. And extreme fatigue. Double-bleah.)
Some things I'd thought of doing today:
Write
Clean the house
Go ice skating
Take the dogs for an adventure
Drive to Pescadero for olallieberry pie
Start a fruitcake (really)
Instead, it's almost noon, and I've been blogsurfing all morning. Now I'm going to eat something and get back in bed. I have some Friday Night Lights to catch up on. I don't even plan on knitting. I'm going to be the biggest slug possible.
It's kind of nice in an agonizingly awful way. Digit, who is howling to be let outside (NO!), feels the same way.