While there are many perks to the entrepreneur's lifestyle, I think there's one that overshadows all others: working in your pajamas. Until recently, Lauren and I were enjoying the fact that we could conduct business for a few hours each morning with yesterday's makeup still caked on and 24+ hour grease-heads. It was a wonderful existence.

Our idyllic work situation came to an abrupt end yesterday when a hostel supply salesperson RANG OUR DOORBELL. At ten in the morning, we usually expect certified mail or the guy who brings butane gas to the neighborhood, not a potential supplier. You see, Lauren got us into trouble by sending out a mass email to a long list of hotel supply companies, asking for them to send us a catalog with their prices. Since then, her inbox has been flooded with responses and just yesterday, we had our first visitor.

Eduard rang up and while I told him that Lauren was busy on the phone, he insisted on making the trek to our "1st floor" (really 3 flight) walk-up. I was a bit confused (who stops by without setting up an appointment?) and Lauren was honestly on the phone so I headed him off at our door, hoping he'd drop whatever it was he brought and leave us alone. Instead, he almost forced his way inside and insisted on leafing through every single page of his catalog, while Lauren (now off the phone) and I stole horrified glances at each other and tried not to die laughing.

One would think that he would take one look at our set-up and high tail it out of there. There's just something about left-over hen party streamers and dirty dishes that just doesn't scream professionalism. While we thought this was just a freak occurrence, someone else showed up at our doorstep today. This lady was more polite in that she didn't insist on coming in and she left us samples, but our world of PJ-biz may be coming to an end.

If only real estate agents made house calls...