"You really don't know much about it, do you Mr. Everton?"

When I parked my van I looked to see if the blue Hyundai that she drove was there, and it was, so I looked in the mirror to make sure my hair wasn’t sticking up like Dennis the Menace and to see if I had any hairs sticking out of my nostrils. Then I grabbed the two folders I was delivering and hopped down from the van.
I was delivering the company mail, and routinely stopped to flirt with a girl who opens the door for me. Typically, we make small talk about the weekend, and then I make a not particularly clever joke, and she laughs and pretends I am clever, and I grin and go on my way.
This particular morning she didn’t open the door for me, but was instead sitting in the office. I walked in and noticed that she was wearing pajama bottoms. That’s not unheard of—daycares and schools often have “Pajama Day”, where everyone comes in their PJs and pretends they are having some kind of day-long sleepover. Kids like it.
“We just had a pajama day at my center,” I said, grinning like an ass.
She looked puzzled.
I tried again. “I see you are having pajama day.”
“What?” she said, as though I had slapped her face.
“You’re wearing pajama bottoms,” I told her, confused that she would forget something so obvious.
She turned red and stood from her chair. Her legs had been crossed and the material of her dress had clung to her leg like pajama bottoms, but now as she stood it became obvious that she was in fact wearing a dress, and that I had said her carefully chosen outfit looked like something she might have worn to bed the night before.
“I’m sorry—the way you were sitting it looked like you were wearing pajama bottoms,” I explained
“I don’t think this looks like pajama material,”” she said, obviously offended.
“No, you look very nice. You always look very nice. I was just being stupid—I did something similar the other day to a kid, and felt just terrible about it.”
She seemed unsure what to make of the situation, and I hurried into my anecdote in hopes of making her forget that I had insulted her.
“Yeah, this little girl had six or seven pigtails all over her head. And then, right before school, she took them out and her hair was just ridiculously wavy and crimped. And I went up to her and said, ‘Oh, I see it’s crazy hair day.’ And this little girl looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, ‘No, it’s picture day.’”
She laughed appreciatively, and I smiled.
“ So please don’t worry about what I said, I’m a total idiot. I wouldn’t recognize pajama bottoms if I was wearing them myself.”
She’d forgotten for a moment, but at the word ‘pajama’ she remembered again, and frowned at me. I stumbled from the building, my foot firmly back in my mouth.
I don’t think we’ll be going out or anything.