But I can type in my room wearing my pyjamas

Last night was another stupid late night. As in 3.30am type stupid late night. As in 'two hours spent fighting with computer and other bits and pieces of what we call modern technology' stupid late night. As in 'now I am so tired I slept in between courses during lunch' stupid late night.

I barely managed to heave myself off the bed to totter downstairs in time for breakfast. As I was debating whether to have toast or brioche and how to have it ("Butter or jam? Or honey? No butter? Butter and jam? Butter and honey?") I saw someone waving at me from the other side of the buffet. It was my partner. Yikes! I was dressed in jeans and wearing a T-shirt M. gave me that declared me part of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina's Life Guards. Did I mention that I hadn't showered or brushed my hair and that I was wearing my glasses?
"I'm sorry, I regressed into a teenager overnight," I said when he came over to say hello.
"Oh, no problem. We have Mr. X, Mr. Y and Mr. Z from Our Client Corp. here - why don't you come over and say hi?"
There was no choice in the matter - with my stringy hair and trainers I followed him to the table where the three sat talking over coffee. My partner was just beaming.
"This is Jeong-A, she's your documentation counsel," he told them proudly. You could kind of tell that the pride wasn't automatically carrying forward to the clients - they were just in shock, I think, to be introduced to some mutant teen who was documenting their deal. We mumbled polite nothings and I made my excuses and left as quickly as I could. Goodness me, I think that will be the last time I wander around the hotel without a suit on.