Sometimes you get what you're looking for

I own two housecoats. One is white and woolly with an eye-and-hook arrangement at the collar, the other is bright blue, woolly and closes with a belt. Neither fit well under my purple and red Dreimar ski jacket. When paired with my son's size 11 Sorels, balaclava and old ski gloves, the ensemble forces my appearance to change - I become the Eastern European blockade runner of Fort Richmond.
I never used to dress this way. The only time I used to wear my pyjamas outside, was when I was on the way to the hospital to deliver a baby.
Now I'm like the strange lady who rides her bike down my street during the early hours of summer. Every garbage day 4, the lady with the mask, white tunic, trousers and fraying grey overcoat stops at the curb by our house. She digs through old potato peels and unwanted juice boxes searching for something that may not exist.
Now I get up early, too. My robe peeks out from underneath my jacket and I sometimes stumble in my boots as I chase Root Beer down the street.
When I first started my early morning walks, I took the time to haul on pants and zip up sweaters. I planned my morning and did my best to keep to a schedule.
When I introduced those blue and white robes to my early morning scramble, I found what the lady in the mask looks for - the time to see something new.