I feel like I should preface this with telling you how much I love my husband and kids but am going to skip straight over that and tell you how much I love staying in a hotel room without them. At BlogHer15, a hotel room of one’s own is a little lick of luxury that does not happen very often. But when it does, I savor every minute.
What’s so great?
There are no distractions, none.
I cannot empty the dishwasher, listen to someone’s problem or wonder why there is no OJ left when I remembered putting it in the cart…thirsty teens, left it at the checkout? I can’t throw in a load of laundry or worry if the dog was limping like that last week. I can just think…just me, my thoughts, it is like a spa for the soul.
I love waking up in a strange room.
I love a strange bed, different linens and an unfamiliar view out the window. I moved constantly throughout my life until my kids were in middle school. Since then life has been geographically stable, so I love this taste of earlier days and the novelty that goes along with it.
I love the spotless bathrooms.
and exploring new toiletries…I know they come with the cost of the room, but it always feels like small personal gifts to me even when I know I can buy the same things at CVS. If they are good, I swipe them.
A bathroom to myself.
I shared bathrooms with brothers, roommates and then, a husband, and while I am not complaining, a bathroom to myself, even for a single night or two, is certainly one of life’s little luxuries.
I love watching TV in bed.
In our home we only have one TV, in a valiant effort to control my children’s watching habits and to encourage all of us to read in bed (yes, I know this was pre-internet.) TV in bed feels like a guilty pleasure. During BlogHer ’13, I will wield the remote control, never having to share it with child or roommate.
Need I say more. Not sure why I can’t get this at home?
Almost every morning for eighteen years I have awakened one or more of my kids and my husband for school, jobs, sports…whatever. I love setting my alarm and then walking into my sons’ room and softly calling their names to begin our day. But in my hotel room I have only myself to worry about and for a night, that sounds just about right.