We ran away for the weekend to visit college friends of my husband's in Long Island. I ate too much chocolate, too much barbecue, too much everything, and my New Year's intentions lie in tatters on the floor (which is where I slept on an air mattress). When we visit these wonderful friends I see my sons at meal times. They disappear into what would be a "Man Cave" in another house, but which is the lair of the eldest son here. The boys watch movies until the middle of the night, sleep in chairs or on the floor, and eat more candy in a weekend than they usually get in three months. In other words, it was delightful. I am always the first to retire, but that also makes me the first to get up, book in hand, and I have a good hour or so to cuddle under a down throw in a reclining chair and read, an indulgence for which I don't seem to make much time these days. Even the four hour ride each way was pleasant. I slept through the (boring) audio book about Winston Churchill to which Himself and the boys were listening, and when it was my turn to drive I listened to the voices in my head.
This morning I sit here, heated and herbal-scented pink shoulder cape draped across my aching neck muscles, and wearing the bathrobe Mom bought for me about three years ago as my last real "present" from her. There was a nightgown, too, which I wear gingerly these days. It was thick flannel, but it's getting thinner with each washing. When it wears out I will cry. This robe is heavy, and too big for me (I was with her when we got it...I have no idea why I picked it out) and makes me look rather like a pink yeti, or some distant Sesame Street cousin of Cookie Monster and Elmo. It feels like a hug, and I'm keeping it.
But now it's time to get out of the robe and into the shower and start the ridiculously long "to do" list of the day. I have Son Number Two for this week. Son Number One stays a week longer. Then it's back to the quiet house, the job search, the cleaning, and the search for meaning in the universe. Right after the search for one more cup of tea....
This morning I sit here, heated and herbal-scented pink shoulder cape draped across my aching neck muscles, and wearing the bathrobe Mom bought for me about three years ago as my last real "present" from her. There was a nightgown, too, which I wear gingerly these days. It was thick flannel, but it's getting thinner with each washing. When it wears out I will cry. This robe is heavy, and too big for me (I was with her when we got it...I have no idea why I picked it out) and makes me look rather like a pink yeti, or some distant Sesame Street cousin of Cookie Monster and Elmo. It feels like a hug, and I'm keeping it.
But now it's time to get out of the robe and into the shower and start the ridiculously long "to do" list of the day. I have Son Number Two for this week. Son Number One stays a week longer. Then it's back to the quiet house, the job search, the cleaning, and the search for meaning in the universe. Right after the search for one more cup of tea....
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