Why I may belong in the nuthouse

As I packed up my weekend things at my parents, getting ready to head home, I realized that I'd be chilly driving along in my t-shirt. Though I had my winter coat, it was too much, too heavy. And my short sleeved jacket, though very cute, would not help with the chilly arms.

I went into my old room (which is nothing more than a fairly empty storehouse these days), opened the closet and stared at the few items in it.

• 1 sparkly, purple, one-shoulder prom dress
• 1 green army coat from the 60's, completely worn out and raggedy, but a family treasure nonetheless
• 1 maroon puffy coat from the late 90's (too hot for the present circumstances)
• 1 blue rain jacket with torn pockets (totally not my favorite)
• 1 black leather jacket from the late 90's with elastic-cuffed sleeves that cut off circulation to my hands (thus, not an option)

All that was left hanging in the closet, after pushing aside the previous items, was a soft, yellow short bathrobe that I bought as I went to college six and a half years ago. I'm so not a bathrobe person, so I've worn it maybe three times. But I couldn't give it away because it's too perfect - so soft, so cheery - you'd think it'd be a happy something to get me through winters in Indiana.

For a few seconds, I contemplated whether I'd really wear the thing if I toted it all the way to my house, but I needed a jacket of sorts, and it would play the part.

Thus it was that I slipped my yellow bathrobe over my pink t-shirt and jeans, loaded my car, and drove home. After an hour of driving I reached a small town with street lights that allowed other drivers to see what I was wearing. I received a few strange looks, and yet, I was secure (and toasty) in my bathrobey-jacket.

Here I am, finally home, and absolutely comfortable. Perhaps I've started a new form of Driving Jacket, much like the old school Smoking Jacket???