The art of lounging
What it takes to truly unwind
By Patricia Baer
In my opinion the best day is one where you have no reason to look at a clock, a day where you have no obligations, no urgent items on your to do list, no errands to run. It is a commitment-free 24 hours in which you can do as you please, if it pleases you. The perfect day is a pajama day.
Whether a spontaneous occurrence or a planned day of “slackitude,” a pajama day starts by giving yourself permission to lounge. More pampered than just bumming, there is luxuriousness in lounging.
It is spending the morning cooking your favorite breakfast and taking time to really enjoy the aroma created in your kitchen. It is eating leisurely, allowing yourself to savor the taste of that omelet or pancakes or bacon or whatever it is that you usually do not have time to make on days when you are in a rush to accomplish your next task. It is sharing stories with your kids about why a favorite family recipe was a special treat when you were their age or recounting hilarious tales of breakfast mishaps from your first attempts to cook.
More re-energizing than taking a mental health day, lounging involves engaging solely in activities that are intended for you to enjoy yourself free from the guilt of knowing there is something else you should be doing instead. Maybe that is curling up in a comfy chair to read a book, stretching out on the sofa as you watch your latest Netflix delivery, or playing a marathon game of Monopoly with your family.
If done right, lounging involves a casual afternoon nap.
A day of lounging is relaxed with no hurry to get dressed since there is no place you need to be other than right where you are. When 4 p.m. rolls around and you suddenly realize that you have spent the entire day in your pajamas, it does not bother you.
For a while I came to believe that this phenomenon was something only adults appreciated, but I recently spent some time babysitting my niece and nephew who reminded me this is not true. Despite having spent the day together, the two eagerly tried to convince me that I should stay the night so we could have a sleepover. When I tried to explain I had things I needed to do, my young nephew made his final pitch in all the earnestness only a preschooler could muster, “Tomorrow is going to be a pajama day.”