Two years ago – almost exactly – a pregnant friend went into labor.
“What do you need that you haven’t taken care of yet?”
So her mom and I ran off to T.J.Maxx to procure jammies.
While wandering the aisles, I found, oh holy moses, a cashmere bathrobe.
It wasn’t exactly pajamas and she hadn’t specifically asked for a robe,
or cashmere for that matter,
so I got quite close to justifying buying it for myself.
But her mom and my conscience got the better of me and she got a baby and the warmth on that day.
Since then, I have scoured the racks at T.J.Maxx every time I have shopped there in search of another one of those luxury items.
Yesterday, I was headed to T.J.’s to get a couple of pampering items for my mom and her upcoming hospital stay; I bought foot massage cream, nail polish, lavender essential oils, and a gorgeous sea foam throw that’s as soft as chocolate mousse.
I stopped to see a friend on the way there and said to her, “Last time I went shopping for someone else, I found a cashmere bathrobe.”
Totally manifested it.
There, yesterday, the one day that I wasn’t looking or hoping, I found one. It’s so soft and yummy.
So unbelievably priced too.
Yet more than I should spend when I’m about to take over a week off from work to travel and I was already spending a bunch for this trip.
Well, I thought, I should give it to my mother. I mean, she’s the one having surgery, right?
Then I can justify the money.
I took everything else out of my basket – except for the stuff for mom and the dog treats and the valentine’s candy for MCB.
I was so disciplined and proud of myself.
I paid, had a few moments of buyer’s panic, then left the store, robe in hand.
I send a text to the pre-shop friend, “I found a cashmere robe! Can you believe it?”
And then, “Do I have to give it to my mother?”
Response, “Haha, you’re funny.”
Oh, not being funny. I was seriously looking for an okay to keep it.
Maybe it’s too hot in Florida for a sweater-robe?
Never mind that everything and everywhere is air conditioned and I usually freeze my ass off down there.
I stopped by another friend’s and silently beseeched her for permission to keep it as my own.
“Wow, that’s a tough one.”
Come on people – where’s the “Obviously it’s yours”?
Guilt, conscience, greed, desire; they all battled it out in my head.
Do I really need it? Will I really wear it? Would my mom really wear it? Is it too hot in Florida?
And then, like a lightbulb in my head…
Mom only likes long nightgowns and robes. She told me that in the sleepwear department of Macy’s last time I was there.
This robe’s above my knees.
Would she wear it anyway?
Well, now we’ll never find out because I slept in it that first night. I slept in it last night. I’ve worn it to feed the chickens, the dogs, the cats, the children.
I’m never taking it off. Ever.