Two clarifications necessary here: by “work,” I mean work in an office building, not working from home and not working as a lifeguard, because obviously I’ve worn pajamas to work in both of those situations. By “pajamas,” I do not mean plaid flannel pants or a nightgown. I mean a tank top. Makes it a little less blog-worthy now, doesn’t it?
What if I told you it was the same tank top I had just slept in the night before?A little grosser, at least, right? And gross things are typically blog-worthy.
Anyway, I couldn’t find a tank top to wear under my shirt yesterday because most of my clothes aren’t in the apartment I’m subletting, and I was running late (which, since it happens every day, should really just be considered “running”), so I put on the same shirt I’d slept in and left the building.
It’s not like anyone could tell. It’s not like people came up to me and asked, “Do you smell something?” and I said, “Oh, you’re probably smelling sleep and sweat and dreams.”
It was just a black tank top. That I happened to be wearing when I woke up that morning. Okay, I know, still gross.