I am starting to worry about my pyjama situation.
My pyjamas live in a drawer in my bedroom, neatly folded, and accessed in strict rotation. The idea is that they will be worn evenly, and the oldest of them will fall apart and be removed from the pile at periodic intervals.
I don’t generally buy pyjamas. That is to say, I buy them for Kevin, because nobody else does, but I haven’t needed to buy my own for many years. They usually materialise among my Christmas presents – last year it was my mother, this year it was my mother-in-law.
I have become faintly aware over the last couple of years, that fitting the pyjamas into the drawer is becoming increasingly difficult. Also, once they are in, the tightness of the squeeze is causing the neat pile to become upset, and the strictness of my wearing rotation is starting to be affected.
The thought that has only occurred to me this week, however, is that I may, now, have crossed a line of no return. I now have so many pairs of pyjamas squashed into my drawer, that the rate of wearing out has dropped to untenable levels. And if I can’t throw away at least ONE pair in the next eleven and a half months, where on earth will I put next Christmas’s pyjamas? I am not like the children. I don’t grow out of them. None are in good enough condition to give away, but none are in BAD enough condition to throw out. Whatever am I going to do?
That was a little insight into the workings of my mind. Doesn’t it explain a lot?