Can I Change Out of My PJs Now?

I've spent all morning doggedly editing and revising chapter 3, "Kitchen Witches: Imagining the Home, "Women’s Work," and the Domestic as Site of Political Resistance" which begins with these two quotes as epigrams:

"Most ordinary, [. . .] that is the nature of deepest magic. Deepest magic which lies at the heart of our everyday lives, flickering fire, if only we had eyes to see" (Mistress of Spices 54).
"The application of time and skill to frivolous things is the hallmark of civilized society[. . . ]any savage can face down a lion or suckle a baby, but History begins with Cleopatra dyeing her hair" (Galveston 39).

to send to my dissertation advisor. The next thing is that she'll look at it, comment, suggest changes, and then, hopefully, if those changes aren't too severe, we'll send it to the rest of my committee and be ready to move on to the next chapter. It's very exciting and frightening at the same time. As long as I procrastinate and don't send her my work, there's no chance that she'll hate it and tell me to give up the PhD. :) So far, that hasn't happened, but there's always a chance. Or that she'll tell me to rewrite the entire thing and several months of work will go down the tubes. Because I can't just say "screw academia" and do something else after all this time. I've got to get the piece of paper so I can get a job and stop being a drain off of my husband's paycheck-- which is a huge huge conflict for someone like me who is a staunch feminist and independent person. Plus, he wants to be a kept man, and I've got to get the money to let him live that life of leisure so many men dream of. :)

But I'm still in my PJs, having refused to do anything except eat lunch and type type type till I had the damn thing in e-mail. I'm smelly, hair messy, and bleary eyed. But it feels really good.