What I Wear To Bed

Today it's time to answer the burning question on everyone's lips. 
I'm sure you've spent hours pondering this very thing. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep at night until you know this vital information:

What does Nesski wear to bed?  

Well, I won't keep you waiting any longer, dear people. It's time to reveal this important detail. Hold onto your tits because it's going to be RIVETING. GOB SMACKING, I tell you! Just simply ASTOUNDING. 

Admit it, it is slightly astounding that anyone would could write such balderdash and pass it off as blog fodder. But you're reading it, so what are you like? 

And truthfully I just wanted to use the word 'balderdash'. So I just found a way to slip it in there. It's a totally underrated, underused word in my honest opinion. Right up there with 'codswallop' and 'poppycock'. I'm quite fond of 'rigmarole', too.

Speaking of rigmarole, here's the revelation you couldn't care less about were waiting for:

I have a breathtaking array of sexy nightwear! Using 'sexy nightwear' in the sense of nanna nightgowns and comfortable pyjamas. Shut up. 

Side note: Incidentally is it pajamas or pyjamas? I'm totally confused about that. Every time I type pyjamas the red squiggly line appears. However, when you spell-check it, it highlighted it in yellow saying it's wrong and suggested pyjamas. So now I'm confused. But then, I'm always confused, so my point is???? Confusing. 

In summer, I wear the night gowns. In winter. it's fleecy pyjamas all the way! SO HAWT! Yeah, NOT.

Well actually, they do keep me quite warm. That's kind of the whole point.

Besides, Mr 7 assures me that I look nice in my pyjamas. Maybe I should start wearing them as day wear? Or maybe Mr 7 is a compulsive liar. Not sure. 

In winter I like to be covered as much as possible with lots of blankets all neatly pulled up to my chin. I even like the idea of weighted blanket, but they're hellishly expensive. 

I also like the idea of wearing a onsie. Except it seems like it might be a bit of a nuisance when you have to pee. Peeing seems to take up an inordinate amount of my time. Too much information? Oops, sorry. That was awkward. Moving on. 

To add to my classy and elegant look, I also wear a beautiful floral polar fleece dressing gown and ugg boots. Coupled with my now completely grey, curly steel wool hair, this certainly brings a whole new level to the word STUNNING. 

I can only offer my sincere apologies for making you so jealous. Related: in fact, I did end up dyeing my hair on Saturday. Again, Mr 7 told me I looked nice. Mickey Blue Eyes told me I looked 'butch'. HMPH. I'll show him whose butch! I'll punch him in the.... Oh wait... Ahem...

Anyway, getting back to my daggy pyjamas. Because let's face it, who doesn't want to get back into my pyjamas. I mean, uh... Now it's awkward again. 

Let us pause and then resume the awkward. 

Pregnant pause.

Not really sure how a pause can be pregnant, but I'm just building suspense for the next round of information you never needed to know about me. Okay, that'll do.

In the past I found the above combo to be an effective 
contraception. These days I don't have to worry about such piffle (another great word), because a) I had a tubal ligation years ago, and b) I'm now in menopause with thanks to chemotherapy. Fun. 

During in-between seasons, I am quite partial to those night shirt type of things with long sleeves. I still like something to cover my arms during the night, but not full on pyjamas because they would get too hot. This is quite thrilling and entertaining information. 

In other random and pointless news, whenever I am all rugged up in my pyjamas and in bed, I seem to have developed a really helpful habit of waking around 4am. I then proceed to lie there and over think about everything and nothing that has happened in my entire life, why I'm here and what is it all about and would it be easier to be a dog or an ant or something. Thinking, thinking, thinking, ruminating, pondering, wondering, musing, mulling all the muddled up, mingling, murky thoughts in my mad mind. Then it's time to get up. At which point I feel like I've been given a dose of anaesthetic or the shit that killed Michael Jackson. Helpful. 

Another thing that occurs to me: existing is exhausting. 

I would try saying that really fast several times, preferably after a wine or two, but I CAN'T BE BOTHERED. See above. Which brings to me to my favourite hobby. See below. 

Well that is quite enough awkward details from me for one day.

No wait. One more thing: I am off to have my tits squashed. Afterwards I will need a good lie down. I will be wearing pyjamas. 

The end.


Linking up for I Must Confess

What do you wear to bed?