I wouldn’t have continued my gaze had it not been for what they were wearing at 12:00pm in the afternoon: pajamas. Also, they were each holding a Starbucks cup and each had a purse slung over their shoulder.

It looked like a scene from the Nickelodeon version of Desperate Housewives or the New Jersey version of Laguna Beach — next on: Desperate Turnpike Stories.

I couldn’t not stare — all I kept thinking was what my mother would have said had I tried, not only to get to the front porch in my pajamas, but ALL the way up the street. What’s going on? And what’s with the Starbuck’s and purses?

It is days like this when, as a someone who doesn’t have children, I begin to think…I need to get out of suburbia…I need to live in Manhattan. I’ll open a small diner-slash-deli-slash-gourmet grocery store…and live among the fabulous city dwellers.

But wait. I have central air conditioning and a Chocolate Labrador. No reasonable apartments that are not in Brooklyn have central air…and the room this dog needs is along the lines of Marmaduke…not FiFi the Manhattan poodle.

What was I complaining about anyway? So, the girls went visiting in their pj’s at 12 noon…I was working in my pj’s (Giants shirt and sweats) too, and did so until 1:30pm…

Are pj’s the new power suit?

Photo: Flickr.com

Post from: Blisstree

More on how to dress for work in summer.