In the post Valentine’s romantic barfness, comes my birthday. (24th) Once upon a time, I would have hoped for jewelry or flowers or classic romance. I dreamed a different kind of dream last night.
He … [It has a to be a guy, because trying to picture a woman in this scenario just doesn’t work for me. Equal love for my peeps and all, but this is a plan that has to be carried out by a man. Who I haven’t been married to. My dream, my caveats.] … calls me, tells me to pack my clean comfy clothes and something that makes me feel pretty.
He has Alex looked after for the weekend, tells me to be ready when he arrives. He takes Alex off to whatever wonderland for a 4 year old. He also takes my television back to Walmart and exchanges it for one that has been unkilled by an overactive kitten. While he is gone, I shower and actually pack, because even in a dream, you know I would have gotten distracted while I was originally supposed to be packing.
He returns, sets up the tv and puts me in the car. Hands me mint chocolate chip ice cream and drives me to a hotel with sinfully comfortable adjustable mattresses. Why a hotel? Because my job is to relax and sleep. And I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my house because someone is there doing my laundry, my dishes and cleaning the place. At long last, the cat hair will be eradicated from my home.
He carries my bag up to the room and puts me to bed. We’ve spent our time together talking about things I want to talk about. Adult conversation that doesn’t revolve around school, work, children, money, bills … I’m not sure what that leaves but it’s a dream and he will figure it out.
I am laughing, I feel light. We lay there and laugh and watch some mindless entertaining tv. Perhaps the entire current season of Leverage or Castle. Maybe geeking out to the History Channel. Whatever it is will be commercial free.
I sleep the sleep of someone who will not be awakened by nonstop adorable talking at 709am.
I wake to the smell of coffee with cream no sugar, and some breakfast food involving cheese and bacon. He sends me off to get a massage and my hair done. Not because it looks bad, of course, but because it’s been six frickin months and I deserve some me primping.
Especially since I get to put on my dress that makes me feel pretty, and my heels and go out to eat at a place that makes a perfect steak – one that does not require a knife to cut. Perfect tasty steak.
Then I get taken back to the hotel to change into my comfy clothes and to stretch on the comfy comfy bed. There is more conversation. Man I love talking to him. There might just be some nooky, but this weekend is all about me getting taken care of and getting rest. So nooky may or may not factor into this dream.
After two nights of taking a break from the world, and being taken care of completely, I’m good with returning home to my clean house and my happy kid. I am well and rested and content.
Happy Happy Birthday to me.