The housecoat of no return

My eldest sister is a generous woman with a closet full of teaching clothes she no longer needs, as she is now retired. Because she taught elementary school, the clothes are mostly cotton, comfy, easily washable, occasionally cutesy or flowery. Whenever she get the urge to de-clutter the guest room closet, she sorts through a few piles and sends me a box of shirts, with instruction to keep what I want and give the rest to charity. I sort the shirts into piles along the following lines: “good for summer”, “dog walking”, donate, “good for work”, donate, “comfy for around the house”, donate, “what was Linda thinking?”, and “maybe I’ll lose 5 pounds”.

This last box included, pooled in the bottom under a lot of “donates” and a few really good work blouses, a housecoat, or house dress. You know what I mean — a mid-calf, 3/4 sleeved, half-front-zip cotton tent made, in this case, of panels of one-color-and-white striped seersucker: mint green, pink, blue, and yellow. I threw it in the newly-dubbed “holy crap what the HELL was Linda thinking” pile, but then pulled it back. See, my shower is in the unfinished basement, as the upstairs tub was never plumbed for a shower.* And because the path from my bedroom to the basement door takes me past a large window and I don’t hate my neighbors, I make sure I’m decently covered traveling to and from. Usually I wear a nightshirt-type t-shirt, but for some odd reason that can have nothing to do with the 15 lbs I’ve gained since moving to the Midwest, they get shorter every year. I have a plush robe for winter, but in summer, when you’re going to be sweating after a shower anyway, you want something lighter and more absorbent. So I kept the housecoat and have been wearing it for that purpose.

In the t-shirt shower days, I’d always get dressed again, even after an evening shower. But the housecoat is so comfy and I’m not going outside anyway. And I reached for it this morning when I got up. And when the yard man came last week, I’d just showered, so I went outside to talk to him in the housecoat (I was in the coat, not him. We haven’t yet reached that point in our relationship). So the neighbors have seen me  in The Housecoat. I’m so far past the point of no return, it’s not even on my map.

So yeah. I’m regularly wearing a housecoat. I mean geez, Linda probably bought it from one of those catalogues that sells tent-y white t-shirts with cute giraffe appliques and matching, giraffe-print leggings. But the housecoat IS so practical and quick and comfy. I just gotta find one printed over with skulls.

*Hail storms and State Farm have given me a new roof and new car this year….I wonder if a tornado could be persuaded to just clip my bathroom?

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3 responses »

    • How exactly does one even know what size to buy in a housecoat? I mean, they’re meant to fit large, right? So if you’re a size large, do you buy an extra large, or is a large sufficiently large enough….

      I have at least 20 years till I hit housecoat age but I figure I’ll study up now so I’ll be all kinds of prepared for then!

  1. Hmmm House coats. Brilliant! If only I’d remembered about them before bringing home the bionic knee! I’ve been wearing my soft cotton nightgowns with a t shirt over the top, in imitation of sort of skirt and t shirt day ware thinga.

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