Leaving the Nest

I can't believe I'm leaving. For three whole, entire, long days.

Leaving my nest, my home.

Alone.

Without my children.

Without my beloved.

Without my pets.

Well, sort of alone. With coffee, a cozy blanket, a comfy bed. A good book, Seinfeld dvds, a box of tissues, Indian food, and lots of chocolate.

And two of my dearest, sweetest, most beautiful friends. The ones I laugh with and cry with. The ones that tell me that my underwear is showing through the hole in the back of my jeans and that they are very red underwear indeed. The ones that tell me that I really should shave my legs more often. The ones that pray for me when I can't even talk to God myself. Those friends.

We're making French Onion Soup and I plan to eat some while sitting outside, in the freezing cold, in a steaming hot tub. I guess I better shave my legs...

I plan to sleep - a lot. In the bed with the puffy duvet and perfect pillows, cozily tucked in the all-glass room right smack in the middle of the treetops.

And I plan to drink coffee, legs tucked up under me on a cozy leather couch, blanket draped over me.

Sleep, talk, coffee, sleep, laugh, coffee.

We plan to wait on no one. We plan to school no one. We plan to clean up after no one. We plan to put no one to bed. Break up zero fights. Unclog zero toilets.

It is going to be glorious.