My husband and kids went to a friend's cottage for a night on the weekend. They left at 1 pm and returned at 1 pm the next day. I had twenty-four hours. I haven't been home alone overnight since the boys were born. Well, I wasn't all alone. I had my dog Buddy for company. It's amazing what you can accomplish with an empty house. Don't get me wrong - I love my boys (all three of them) - and wouldn't change my life for a minute. Still, I wasn't sad when I found out I'd have some time alone.
In the first ten hours they were gone, I had a coffee, wrote 3k, washed and dried two loads of laundry, watched three episodes of Hawaii 5-0, did yoga, made dinner (the frozen variety), ate dinner in front of the TV, washed the dishes, walked the dog, played with the dog, and swept the floor. Then I slept for seven hours, naturally waking up at 6:30. I spent thirty minutes checking e-mail and social media before getting up for breakfast. In the last five hours, I wrote another 2k, dusted, took out the garbage, and walked the dog. Then they were home, returning in a tornado-like fashion, dropping their coats on the floor and not putting their shoes on the mat. But I was so happy to see them, giving them tight hugs until they complained I was squeezing them too hard.
I would have liked to write the entire time, but I had to use my gift responsibly. There's always something to be done, no rest for the wicked. What would you do with a gift of twenty-four hours?
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