So a few weeks ago Scott and I had the unexpected pleasure of an unscheduled night to ourselves. Both kids had sleep overs, so we took advantage of the situation and had a wonderful dinner out and saw a very mediocre movie, Men Who Stare At Goats. Don't bother.
The next morning we went on a bike ride through Paradise Valley where we ogled beautiful homes, or tried to, as we whipped by them around curves and up and down hills.
Here I am again, on a Saturday night, with two kids sleeping at friends' houses. But this time Scott is out of town. I calculated. I racked my brain. I am quite certain that this has been the first night I have spent in my own home, ALONE, in ten years, seven months, and at least thirteen days.
Of course I've spent nights away from my family, with friends and my extended family, in other cities. But this here tonight, it's been a long, long time.
I spent a good part of it in a Christmas decorating frenzy. I tied ribbons, repaired a wreath, and decorated a sled. All the while indulging in the guilty TV pleasure that Scott does not share, Desparate Housewives. I polished off three episodes. That is totally the way to do it!
Arden was worried that I would be lonely. And to be honest, the sleeping dogs were pretty poor company. But I thoroughly enjoyed the solitude and the uninterrupted surge of creativity as I attempted to transform the house for the holidays. One night, though, is enough. Maybe a little more often than every ten plus years, but I'll be happy tomorrow night when everyone is back home with me. That will "make me happy" too!