“I work in my pajamas most of the time. No matter what you’re wearing, you can sound businesslike on the phone.”

“What are you wearing?”I looked down at my soft flannel pajamas. I’d washed them so many times the plaid pattern had faded mostly to grays and whites. “What do you want me to be wearing?”Dan’s voice shifted a little. I imagined a smile. “Nothing.”Such a small thing, that little bit of flirting, but all at once I felt as if air had rushed into my lungs, and I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. “Nothing but a smile.”

“You can use my phone, if you’ll pay the roaming charges,” I said.“I need a land line,” he said “A pay phone.”“You’re out of touch with the times,” I said. “A pay phone might be a little hard to find. Nobody uses them anymore.”

“I don't always change my clothes just because I'm leaving the house. I wear yoga pants 99 percent of the time, and I pretend that other people don't notice that I'm wearing my pajamas in public.”

“But I do agree with Mr Findlay about one thing: I am desperate to paint, so it’s probably time to start. Because you can plan all you want, but most of the time, the ideas come when you’re working. And no matter how much you try to control it, you’ll still paint it wrong before you paint it right.”

“It’s not what you wear that sets you apart from your fellow man, but what you don’t wear. I don’t wear pants, for instance, and while you’re pondering that, take a moment to gaze at my penis.”