Actually what I am “loving” is the morning time when I am drinking my coffee and writing. Sometimes the writing takes the form of remarks or responses on Face Book. I often look in amazement at the words that form on the page as my fingers dance over my computer keyboard. Other times something that someone else wrote starts streams of words in my head and they come pouring out in my blog or in a separate post on Face Book or both. Other times as I awake and begin my day, an idea or thought takes form, seemingly from out of nowhere, and my fingers itch to get to the keyboard and to watch it all come alive.

My bathrobe or nightgown or pajamas are just symbols of a relaxed mode that indicates that at least for a while, I am not thinking about having to go anywhere or do anything so I can dance on the keyboard and create something out of nothing. Ah, the joy that arises as I allow what is bubbling up within me to come pouring out (or in some cases staggering out when I hit a road block or pothole or two).

Yes, housekeeping, neatness, and organization of my surroundings is not my forte’. I stop for a moment and look around. What a swamp! I wonder if all person who create have a tendency for a lack of real enthusiasm for being good housekeepers. I admit I have not yet reached the point where the swamp becomes such a threat, I must do battle with it or drown. When the words take a break, I can chip away a bit at the mess around me. The idea of simplifying looms noisily over my head; however, in order to do that, I must work on the swamp by keeping fewer things of “necessity” to sap my time, my energy, and my space.

My home does not look like a hoarder’s home but in my head sometimes it feels that way.

Bathrobe anyone?


  1. Bren I was already laughing when I read your title. Your nailed it on the head. When I was still moving at a much more “normal” speed, I could get correspondence and email done. Cleaning a little, washing a load of clothes, and getting my farmer’s noon meal started, all while I was still in my bathrobe. The reason I was laughing was because long ago our local U of I extension women’s group had us wear our preferred morning outfit. I did not waffle, I joined the group in my bathrobe and found that I was the only one that had come in their real morning costume. There were many that said they just didn’t have the nerve.

    I do think, as you, many of us do like to continue feeling that heart deep association with sleeping self as the morning goes on.

    • Good for you Mary Alice! I’m not sure I would have had the courage to do that but it is my morning clothes of choice up to a point and then something goes, “click”, and I reluctantly, grab something else to wear. I have to admit that last week the cable man came way earlier than expected. He was supposed to call first too but didn’t. There I was in my bathrobe. I said if he didn’t mind, neither did I. This morning I taken my robe off and just had on pajamas when a golfer hit a ball so far off course and so hard it went right through my screened-in patio. I was not happy and I let him know it – pajamas or no pajamas.

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