It all got to be a bit much – the interminable flu/allergy plague, the busted pipes, the lack of hot water, the broken appliances, the absentee father/spouse – and so WonderBaby and PL and I got the hell out of Dodge.
Now we’re here:
That’s the view from our hotel room window in The! Honeymoon! Capital! Of! The! World!
Which is not exactly the place that you want to be when you’re a miserable, flu-ridden, effectual single mom, except for the fact that it has a) hot showers, b) room service, c) the Husband (who, although pre-occupied with mundane things like making sure that they can get the helicopter to hover over the exact right place over the falls at the exact right moment at dusk and capture it on film, is nonetheless available in the middle of night for me to bitch at about how much snot there is in my head), and d) did I mention hot showers? And room service? All of which makes it easier to overlook the fact that Niagara Falls is one of the most obscenely touristy places on earth and that I cannot for the life of me find a shop that sells diapers anywhere.
And because the last week and a half has been so challenging, tonight I will feel no guilt whatsoever curling up – after WonderBaby is abed and a hot bath has been enjoyed – in a nice cushy bed that has been ‘specially turned down for me and turning on the television and tuning in to something mindless while I eat lobster ordered from room service. We’ll call it my belated birthday, and it will be good.
Then, perhaps, tomorrow, I will have the strength to follow the directions that I discovered this morning while looking for diapers and a Starbucks (not in that order). Because apparently this is the land of my people. Or, one of them, anyway:
C’mon, ‘fess up: which one of you is this?