A sybaritic weekend

So this past weekend, husband was out of town. He travels a decent bit for work, and it often happens that I am on deadline or otherwise heaped with writing and all its attendant responsibilities. And then there are weekends like this one. For various and sundry reasons, I was in need of a rest. I was bone-tired and utterly sucked dry of everything bouncy and creative and sparky. And that was BEFORE the time change.

In light of that, I made up my mind to have a completely indulgent weekend–nothing but pleasure. I picked up champagne and roses, both pink, and was delighted when my new feathered mules arrived in the post. I stocked up on fun books like AUNTIE MAME and OUTRAGEOUS OPENNESS, and bought some good chocolate. I grabbed my box set of Miss Fisher DVDs and opened up my DVR queue to where I had stockpiled the entire second season of “Agent Carter”.

It was a mental health break of the most frivolous kind. I settled in with my feathers and bubbles, and Miss Fisher, Peggy Carter, and Mame provided excellent company. I manicured my nails a deep red, wore silk kimonos, and drizzled honey on everything I ate. It was so gloriously indulgent that by the time husband returned home on Sunday evening, I felt like a new woman. Sometimes all it takes is 48 hours alone with some kick-ass women and pink champagne to recharge the batteries.