I have a winter robe. Not just any old robe, but this robe. In navy, if you must know.
I bought it last year when we moved here to this cold hinterland, into a home with big, drafty windows. It’s not hip, no, that’s for certain; but I’m not exactly a slave to fashion. (Since buying it, I have also purchased its equivalents in the slipper and winter coat departments. I might look like a major dork, but I’m warm, you hear me? Warm.)
Tonight I am wearing it around our chilly house.
I stopped to talk to Matt, who is busy typing tonight’s 1000 words for his NaNoWriMo story (he’s not officially enrolled, but is taking turns writing 1000 words per day with our friend Christopher for the month).
I thought I detected a faint smirk on his face. As I left the room, I called back to him, “What’s sexier than this robe, huh?”
His immediate reply: “Granola.”