A Night In the Life of a Middle Aged Woman Left To Her Own Devices

I tend to be the driver of the house. By choice for me, maybe not so much for DH. I love to drive and I always have. When I was a teenager, I had silly half-dreams of becoming a race car driver.

I bring this up because I do a lot of the driving when it comes to going long’ish distances. In recent years it has been defaulted to me after DH’s eye surgery. The task has been welcomed with opened arms because, well, see above.

Anyway, the kid left for Rome tonight and I took her to the airport. I took her to the farthest airport in our region about two hours away.

DH thought it would be a good idea for me to book a hotel room and stay local to the airport. Since The Kid’s flight was late at night, it made sense as I would otherwise be arriving home well after midnight.

One thing that I have become really fond of over the years is spending time alone. Don’t get me wrong. I love spending time with my husband, family, and friends, but sometimes I just really need, as well as relish, “me” time.

I mean, I’m not sure I could do it all time, but every so often is good for the soul.

After I helped get the kid settled at the airport, honestly thinking the entire time that I just couldn’t wait to get my night going even though I would miss her dearly, I hopped in my car giddy like a child on the day she lost her first tooth.

I reserved a hotel room about ten minutes outside of where the airport was because it was well over $100 cheaper. Unfortunately, I was delayed getting to my destination because the exit was closed down and then there was traffic. I guess you can only imagine what choice words I had for the situation.

A woman scorned is not something you want to encounter, or worse yet, be the cause of. Not that there was anything I could do about the situation. But there is something so satisfying to be able to scream out loud like a crazy woman to no one in particular.

When I finally arrived and opened the door to my room, I was met with the piece de resistance — a view of NYC. I threw off my shoes, took off my clothes — particularly that bastardly bra — opened a bottle of wine, and scattered some cheese, crackers and olives on a paper plate I took from home.

I settled into the luxurious bed, and drank wine, watched a movie on Netflix from the SmartTV, and luxuriated in all the everything.

Now I sit here throwing these words together at 3AM, still drinking wine. I have the air conditioning turned to a cool 67 degrees to keep the night sweats away, and I don’t want to go to sleep because I am absolutely loving this time to myself.

I was going to take advantage of the hotel gym in the morning because I have become a little obsessed with working out. But honestly, I just want to sleep late. And by “late” I mean 8am. I want to order in room service, and chill until the very last moment I have to check out.

I am in a hotel room by myself. Let me repeat that…I am in a hotel room by myself. I am not traveling for work or going to a funeral of an old aunt. I am in a hotel room by myself because my awesome husband suggested something that was so beyond my scope of declining.

But now I’m sleepy. I’m exhausted but in a good way. And I want to sleep until 8AM. The “Do Not Disturb” sign is on the door and I will sit here in this hotel room by myself until the clock strikes 11.

The room darkening blinds are shut, the air conditioner is on low, and the blower/fan is set to remain constant for white noise.

My daughter is on her way to Rome for the experience of a lifetime, my husband is holding down fort at home, and I am in a hotel room all by myself. Life is good.

Until I have to go home and do laundry. Life calls, people. And for that I am grateful.

This Isn’t Sedona But I’ll Take It


I woke up this morning at 6:30.  My mind screamed, “NO NO NO NO NO, you will NOT wake up at 6:30 on vacation.  You just drove without any help pretty much non-stop for 12 hours in a car yesterday and you deserve to sleep a little more.”  So, that’s what I did.  Somehow I eased my brain into another slumber and slept blissfully until 10am.

Ahhhh.  Much better.  So, now I lie here in my little retreat deciding what I should do next.  “Your little retreat,” you ask?  Let me tell you a bit about my little retreat.  It’s funny, but it’s been here all along.

Every summer since The Kid was a baby, my parents, The Kid and I would drive down south to visit my brothers.  Then a few years ago, the parents retired down here.  So, now just The Kid and I come down.  We leave DH at home because we typically like to stay longer than a week.  Besides, he’d be bored.

Usually we fly.  This time we drove.  Don’t ask because I’m not really sure.  Just so you know, that may be the last time I drive down.  Although The Kid will have her license by next summer so I may have a helper.  But with the way that’s going, I think I’d rather swim down the Atlantic with the sharks than let her take my life in her hands.  But that’s a story for later so stay tuned.

When we got here last night, I extracted myself from the vehicle.  It took me a while to loosen up.  My knee was throbbing.  My head was spinning.  And I was one stiff wind short of falling over.  Then my dear mother said to me, “how would you like to sleep in the RV for the week?  You know, have your own little space to escape to to write, do whatever you want?”

The RV is pretty cool.  The parents use it to travel around the country.  It has slide-outs to make it larger, a full bathroom, a kitchen, 2 flat screen televisions, a bedroom, a dining room, a couch, running water, air conditioning and heat if needed.  When not in use, they keep it in the yard all hooked up.  They have been doing this for years.

My retreat in the driveway.

Mom and dad live in an adorable 2 bedroom Cape style house when they aren’t road tripping it.  When we are visiting, they give up their master for me, The Kid gets the spare room and THEY go out to the RV.  That’s the way it has always been.  Always.

I was hesitant at first.  I don’t know why.  And then I remembered my good friend Rachel and her recent visit to a retreat.  Her retreat was in Sedona and she went there to write her book.  I was crazy mad with envy.  I wanted a retreat too.  And now, I have it.  It’s been here under my nose all this time.  This may not be Sedona but with a printout of some mountains, a little scotch tape and a fan to blow “mountain” air through my hair, I can change all that in a flash.

I woke up this morning to peace and quiet.  No one was around to bother me.  I love my family.  I love DH and The Kid, my parents and my niece and nephew.  But let’s face it, we all could use a break from time to time.  You know, from the hubbub of everyday life.  From working, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, the taxi service, cleaning.

So here I am, writing my blog.  Enjoying the mountain view (mostly in my head because I decided printing out some mountains was just not on my weekly bucket list).  I’m taking an online writer’s course.  I am also writing a book, for those of you who are unaware.  A lot of it is in my brain, some is on paper.  But by the end of my stay here, I’m hoping to have a little more on paper and less in my brain.

Now that I’m up and have showered in my own private bath on my retreat, I have to go.  I have lots to do here.  Sedona….err, the RV is calling.