Let’s face it, my adulting skills take a nosedive faster than a penguin on a slip ‘n slide as soon as the first snowflake hits the ground in northern Minnesota. And thanks to the last four years of home office life—where the only dress code violation involves accidentally standing up during a Teams call—my wardrobe has seen better days. And by better days, I mean actual pants days.

When you’re locked in a cold embrace with winter and the prospect of leaving the house before Friday is as likely as me winning the lottery, the appeal of pajama pants becomes irresistible. It’s like gravity, but for laziness. And let’s be clear, “my” pajama pants might not originally be mine. To any future visitors, consider this a friendly warning: leave your cozy pajamas behind at your own peril. They might just find a new life in my rotation, and possibly even make a guest appearance during my prestigious chicken-feeding ceremonies. Or, you know, while I’m strutting down the high streets of downtown Laporte like it’s Milan Fashion Week.

Post-holiday, pajama pants are the unsung heroes, offering forgiveness that your typical denim or, heaven forbid, yoga pants (which, by the way, are NOT real pants) could never. They embrace you like the comforting hug of a grandma, understanding that we’re all just a little extra round after the holidays. If clothes were people, pajama pants would be the kind-hearted soul who always tells you, “You look great!” no matter what.

But our tale doesn’t end with the heroic deeds of pajama pants. No, last week we ventured into the wilds of home improvement, specifically, the treacherous land of DIY tiling. Tiling, as it turns out, is an art, with available gig tile setters as elusive as unicorns in these parts. So, armed with nothing but our wits and a YouTube tutorial or two, we charged headlong into battle against the fireplace and kitchen backsplash.

Our weapon of choice? Pre-mixed mortar from Home Depot, because who has time to mix their own? This magical concoction promised to hold tiles quicker than I can lose interest in a fitness routine. And lo, the tiles were mounted with the ease of slapping a sticker onto a notebook. Except for the grouting. Ah, grouting, my old nemesis, we meet again. It seems our battles are destined to continue, much like my unfinished projects that are piling up like snowdrifts outside.

So there you have it, the chronicles of a winter spent in pajama pants and the occasional DIY battle. May the saga continue, and may our pants always be comfy and our tiles ever sticky.