If you follow me on Facebook, you’ll know I despise pants, aka leg prisons. I’m a skirt person or a dress person or anything-that-doesn’t-bind-at-the-waist-and-knees person. And since I work at home, I get to wear whatever I want. No dress code to follow. No one to impress. None of this has gone unnoticed by my husband, and for Christmas, he delivered. He bought me nightgowns that can double as a dress, and the fabric is so soft, it’s like wearing butter. Then yesterday I found another outfit labeled as loungewear that I had to have. I’d wandered down to the gift shop of the hospital in the hopes of finding…


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