I'm about to leave work to take GH to the airport. He's going to Chicago to visit his sister for the weekend. I'm not allowed to fly anymore, so I'm holding down the fort at home.
There's a part of me that is seriously excited about having the condo to myself for the weekend. It's a delicious kind of feeling to just set your own schedule and be the master of your own time. Especially with the twins on the way, I know I don't have many such weekends left. Of course, the tradeoff will be worth it, but I want to enjoy this luxurious, self-indulgent time while I can.
The flip side, though, is that I will miss GH terribly. It's a jarringly painful potential preview of coming attractions. The few times he's been away since his illness, I have found that waking up and realizing he's not there is really hard. I find myself overwhelmed by sadness at not having him there to giggle with before we get out of bed and make our weekend waffles, or next to me to put an arm around when I get back from one of my million nighttime bathroom visits. I then remind myself that he'll be back, and I count my blessings for that.
On the agenda for Solo Weekend: some cooking (I have a brownie recipe and a Moroccan chicken recipe that I want to try), some social stuff (girl afternoon and evening with my best friend tomorrow), some project stuff (wedding photos are going into albums, goddamnit), and relaxing (GH checked some DVDs out of the library for me). Also: sleeping and reading.
Speaking of reading, I need to change my "Currently Reading" selection. I only got about 25 pages into Julie and Julia before Julie drove me completely insane. So whiny! So annoying! I wanted to go to NYC and find her and instruct her to get a life. So I've actually been reading more No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books and I'm going to start Jonathan Harr's The Lost Painting this weekend.
Oops, time to go meet GH. I'll post twin room pics this weekend, too.