Years ago, when I was in my twenties, my mother started a birthday tradition for me. Every year she would buy me a brand new flannel nightgown and matching slippers. Neck to floor flannel.
I loved it.
My ex hated it.
He called it my yearly dose of birth control.
Mom stopped buying the flannel nightgowns, but I don't think she knew how much I missed getting them. I love flannel. Nightgowns, sheets, pajamas, slippers...you name it, if its flannel, I adore it. There's nothing like putting on your warm flannel nightgown and your comfiest slippers and curling up on the couch with a steaming hot cup of cocoa to watch a movie on a cold winter's night while the Christmas lights twinkle merrily on your tree.
I just love being warm. Who doesn't love that?
In a flannel nightgown I can crawl into bed in the dead of winter with all of the bedroom windows wide open to the freezing night air and I can sleep completely warm and insulated, happily oblivious to the icicles forming on the lamp on my nightstand.
In a flannel nightgown, I AM THE SEXY.
You're going to have to trust me on this.
I don't remember when I mentioned my love of flannel nightgowns to SG, but obviously I did.
A few days ago he casually mentioned I would probably be seeing a package in the mail and that I could open it when I got it.
"Is it my Christmas present? I don't want to open my Christmas present until Christmas!"
"No, its not your Christmas present. Its just something I wanted to send you."
I came home from work last night, grumpy from my head cold and hating the thought of being alone in an empty house. There were boxes piled up on the stoop, since I've been ordering Christmas presents for the everyone and things are arriving daily.
On the top of the pile was a square package sealed in plastic. It was soft. It was from LL Bean.
I brought all the packages in, dumped them unceremoniously on the dining room table, grabbed my scissors and cut the end off the package to find...
this:
It was accompanied by a note:
So there you have it: Actual proof that MEN LISTEN.
At least some do. Mine does.
I'm slurping down my morning coffee - dosed with milk and eggnog - and I am snug as a bug in a rug in my tartan flannel nightgown.
I love you too, babe.
