Four of the loveliest words in the English language, if you ask me.
I’m in Chicago.
All by myself.
A few weeks ago after Mark got back from a day of rock climbing that he’d tagged on to a business trip, I was fantasizing out loud about going away for a weekend. Staying in a nice hotel, ordering room service, walking around, eating lunch by myself with a book, having a drink in the hotel bar, going to a museum and taking as much time as I wanted, etc. And Mark said, “You know, you could do that if you wanted to.”
I could?
“Sure, I can manage the kids for a couple of days by myself. MJ’s almost two, she’ll be okay for a day or two without you. If she asks for milk I’ll make her a chocolate shake or something.”
The idea that I could go away for a weekend by myself without any of the kids had completely dropped off my radar. I just hadn’t thought about it at all.
In the end I chose to be gone only one night. (After all, I don’t want MJ to wean or anything.) And I’m gone right now! I’m blogging from the hotel business center on my way out to dinner.
Today I spent FIVE HOURS in the Art Institute of Chicago. (And yes, Margaret, I did pay a nice long visit to the Seurat.) I had lunch in the garden restaurant. I sent a text message to my husband along the lines of “Sitting by reflecting pool w glass of bubbly. Awaiting ahi tuna salad. Love u!” I thought I might take out my book and read, but I was so giddy just sitting there in the sun-filled courtyard, looking around at all the people (I was the only one there by myself), that I didn’t need it.
I took a bunch of notes about the paintings and works I especially liked, but I lost my notes. Sorry!
Ah well, I’m getting hungry. Time for that dinner, and that drink at the bar.
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