Robe-ism

I figured out why I don’t really like traveling. Or more specifically, why I don’t like staying in hotels. It’s not the stack of singles that you have to peel off every time someone smiles at you. Nor is it the way they swarm your car when you pull up to the front, yank out all your luggage and pull you out the door before you’ve even had time to collect your things. And it isn’t the lousy, weak coffee that you have to drink four cups of just to get a suggestions of caffeine in your system. (Do the people working there drink that coffee, too?)
No, what drives me nuts is having to wear clothes. Or more specifically, wearing clothes to breakfast.
I don’t like getting dressed in the morning; pulling on a pair of stiff jeans, a restrictive shirt, and clunky shoes and socks, until I’ve had something to eat and a big cup of coffee. I hate getting dressed before I’ve eased into the morning, and in all honesty, it ruins my entire day. I just feel like I’ve been yanked out of my rental car a bit too soon by those over-eager door men, before I’ve had time to collect myself.
Hoo boy, am I glad I’m ending my trip with a few (well-deserved, thank you very much…) days at the Lake Austin Spa, doing some cooking demos, but mostly soaking up the spa atmosphere. One of the great things here is the first thing when you step in the door is they do is hand you a big, fluffy robe and sandals and tell you that you don’t need to wear anything else—for the entire time!
Now if that isn’t my idea of bliss, I don’t know what is. Some people are more comfortable being naked and go to nudism resorts to ‘let it all hang out.’ I’m a bit more bashful and prefer a comfy robe. I guess that makes me a robe-ist.
So here I am, wrapped up in white cottony fabric, bundled up and drinking my coffee (Illy!) overlooking the Lake Austin.
Maybe I should start a Robe-ism movement. Then we can all just wear big, fluffy robes all day long and nothing else. We can wear them to work, to the gym, to school, and when we run errands as well. And most importantly, to breakfast.
Every movement has to start somewhere. And it just takes one person to get the ball rolling.
I’ll go first. Will you follow me?