It’s officially the time of year where I just want to stay home and make soup in my pajamas all the time. (And by “time of year,” I mean “stage of life,” and by “stage of life,” I mean “my entire life up to this point and probably continuing forever.”)

In fact, I actually texted a dear friend that very thing last week when she inquired about my weekend plans: “I would love to see you, but if I’m being honest, I’m ashamed to admit that all I want to do this weekend is stay home and make soup in my pajamas.”

Luckily, because she is a true friend, she wrote back, “No shame needed! Stay home and eat your soup, my love!”

So I did. I wore scotty dog pajamas and made and devoured this chicken-orzo soup while watching “Dateline,” and it was pretty fantastic. 

During the pandemic, my typical behavior was considered responsible. I’ve always been a germ-conscious introvert given to frequent and diligent hand-washing, opening doors with paper towels, and … you know, staying home on Saturday nights making soup in my pajamas, but suddenly, my habits were normal and maybe even trendy

Now, though, everyone is raring to get back to concerts and sporting events and … I still just want to stay home and make soup in my pajamas.

I’m in my 40s now, however, and I honestly don’t care if I’m cool at this point. I liked handwashing and sourdough and staying home before it was cool, and I like it still. I don’t think I’m a trendsetter or anything like that; I just think I’m me. And me in January and February is not doing anything on the weekends besides staying home and making soup in my pajamas. 

Who’s with me?