I love to come home and get into comfortable clothes. The first thing I do when I cross the threshhold is to kick off my shoes. Jasmine still thinks, after all these years, that they are for her to chase. The cat disavows any knowledge.

Then I go upstairs and divest myself of my work clothes and underwear and put on really soft comfortable stuff--knit shorts, knit tee shirt (is there any other kind?)--and pad around the house barefoot.

The one concession to city living is to slip on sandals when I go outside to pick up after the dog, do a little gardening, harvest tomatoes or put a load of laundry in the machine. The sandals come off when I come back indoors. I guess I've stepped on too many nails, glass shards and splinters and have thereby learned to cover my feet when outdoors.

I like the tees and shorts better than running around naked, because I'm protected from sudden shocking contact with cold/wet surfaces (and dog noses) and when I sweat, I don't stick to myself, the clothing absorbs the moisture. Excuse me. Did I say "sweat"? I meant to say "glow". That is the proper Victorian term, is it not? In winter it's jeans and tee shirt.

Also I'm at least minimally clad if/when someone comes to the door. And (I know it's weird) I feel I should have the bare necessities when talking on the phone or using the computer.

So I'm sitting here in my shorts and tee shirt. Jasmine is still wearing her fur coat, poor baby.