Pajama Girl
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerFinal paper for my eighteenth-century urban history class: finished.
Random probably grossly historically inaccurate and definitely depressing but it wouldn't leave me alone World War II story: finished. And good riddance. (No, really. YOU ARE GOING TO LEAVE ME ALONE NOW.)
Yuletide story: Yeah, I need to start that. How's everyone else doing?
***
There is a girl on my floor who wears polka dot pajamas. White, with little dark blue polka dots, the edges scalloped.
When I say she wears them, I mean I have never seen her in anything else - and I see her almost every day. I boil water for my breakfast tea, and she's in the kitchen chopping onions in her pajamas. I ransack the refrigerator for butter for my mid-afternoon toast, and she and her friend are stirring carrots in a skillet with a wooden spoon, murmuring in Japanese. I step out in the hallway...and she's walking to the shower. In her polka-dot pajamas.
She must own fifty pairs of these pajamas, because they're always crisp and clean.
Why? Are they hypoallergenic pajamas, and she can't wear anything else? Does she wear them to class? It must be cold; they're only cotton. Does she ever get tired of polka dots?
Maybe it's a dare. Wear the same outfit for a year, and you get a million dollars - a meeting with a unicorn (or a kirin, perhaps?) - a cure for a dying mother - I don't know; I'm only guessing.
Did she just get tired of fashion?
Maybe it's grown on her, like a second skin. Maybe I've met my first magical creature, and I didn't notice because I couldn't look past the polka dots.
Random probably grossly historically inaccurate and definitely depressing but it wouldn't leave me alone World War II story: finished. And good riddance. (No, really. YOU ARE GOING TO LEAVE ME ALONE NOW.)
Yuletide story: Yeah, I need to start that. How's everyone else doing?
***
There is a girl on my floor who wears polka dot pajamas. White, with little dark blue polka dots, the edges scalloped.
When I say she wears them, I mean I have never seen her in anything else - and I see her almost every day. I boil water for my breakfast tea, and she's in the kitchen chopping onions in her pajamas. I ransack the refrigerator for butter for my mid-afternoon toast, and she and her friend are stirring carrots in a skillet with a wooden spoon, murmuring in Japanese. I step out in the hallway...and she's walking to the shower. In her polka-dot pajamas.
She must own fifty pairs of these pajamas, because they're always crisp and clean.
Why? Are they hypoallergenic pajamas, and she can't wear anything else? Does she wear them to class? It must be cold; they're only cotton. Does she ever get tired of polka dots?
Maybe it's a dare. Wear the same outfit for a year, and you get a million dollars - a meeting with a unicorn (or a kirin, perhaps?) - a cure for a dying mother - I don't know; I'm only guessing.
Did she just get tired of fashion?
Maybe it's grown on her, like a second skin. Maybe I've met my first magical creature, and I didn't notice because I couldn't look past the polka dots.
