By this time next week I will be on my 4th family-less day and hopefully loving it.
I used to have a daydream where I ran away from my family with pockets full of cash, a one way ticket to Paris and a pilot case stuffed with great shoes.
Then I settled for the 8:30-4pm school/work day reprieve. But, even as much as I LOVE my house, and the quietly productive time I spend there, I also have to deal with telephones, animals and all too obvious chores.

Beginning Monday, I will spend more than 2 weeks away from home, 12 days by myself (BY MYSELF) among writers. I know. I can’t believe it myself. I am waiting for the ball to drop, the firework injury to fester, the leak in the tub to rot out the ceiling, the hamster to die, the unpredictable shitty thing to happen that will predictably ruin what might be the best break I have gotten in a long long time. Okay, maybe that’s too negative. Maybe that’s my guilty for leaving my family feeling coming to the surface.
Maybe I should take the approach that
1. I earned this.
2. I deserve this
3. They are not babies- any of them and it’s time they learned to take care of themselves. The husband has got to learn to use the remote one of these days right?

My writing friends tell me I will get a lot done without HOME getting in the way. that this is a great opportunity. I want to make them proud. I want to succeed. Back me up on this, internet. All moms need a personal getaway. All writers need space to write without anyone breathing over their shoulder, asking them to find their flip-flops or make a four course meal. Tell me it’s okay.

I’ll let you know how it goes when I’m here.