I'll be brief

I had a post written and published early this morning.  Then I decided to switch gears.  This topic seemed more New Year's-ish.

The other post will pop up again in a few days.  It's full of family drama and frustration.  Been mulling over how to share it with you since Christmas.  This is lighter.  And brief.  And, hey, I'm gonna TRY to be more brief in 2018.  You're welcome.  (In response, you are going to TRY to comment more on my posts, right?).

It's cold here in the windy city.  Crazy cold.  Yesterday morning, I put on my robe.  Referring to this garment of mine as a robe is being incredibly generous.  Coach came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.  'My New Year's resolution is that you get a new robe.'  I don't really think that is how New Year's resolutions work.  Correct me if I am wrong.

I honestly only wear the robe a few times a year.  Most mornings I hop out of bed and dress in workout attire.  I hit the gym in the morning and shower.  Then the day begins.

I grabbed the robe yesterday because it is full-length, handy, and warm.  I wasn't working out until 10:30 am.  Boo hiss.  I hate working out that late, but I do enjoy this particular class, so I sat wrapped up in my robe and my PJ's drafting the distressing blog post that will show up later this week.  (curious?) I was cozy at the computer until 10:00 when I ditched the terry-cloth rag that I once treasured and dressed for my class.

The robe was a gift when I was going away to college.  It was from the family that I babysat for.  It has my name embroidered on it - along with a little shamrock.  I brought it with me when I studied in Ireland my junior year of college.  Ireland is damp.  The robe came in handy.  I still can't believe though that I sacrificed packing other more mainstream wardrobe items in order to haul this huge, pink robe overseas.  Sometimes I crack myself up.

I've tried other robes.  Polyester robes make me sweat.  They don't breathe.  It hasn't been a priority to replace, because I use it SO infrequently now.  Back when the kids were tiny and I was strapped to the house a bit more, I wore it every morning without fail.

In case you are wondering, I attended college a LONG time ago.  This thing is a relic.  I'm slightly embarrassed to share the photo with you, but I brought it up . . . so . . .

My robe.  Nearing antique status.  Note the shamrock.  The part at the top left is the shredded collar.  The black part was once a tag.  The cuff is equally shredded.  I tried to hide the discolored side of the cuff to preserve what little pride I still have in tact.  

Do you have anything that you aren't proud to own, and that your spouse/friend/kid is begging you to ditch in 2018?  Do tell.  Remember:  you are going to TRY to comment more - per me, the nutty lady who owns a ridiculous robe.