There was a time I would long for a quiet weekend cocooned at home after busy and hectic weeks of parties and silliness and yes, sometimes a little work. I would emerge from a couple of early nights and quiet afternoons refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle the world once more.
However, after a certain number of peaceful hours, I worry that I'm about to turn to a rusty hulk of a former funster.
This weekend was one of those.
My sweetheart and I were invited to two parties on Friday night and two parties on Saturday night and we attended none of them. I felt guilty about not going, even though I had let my hosts know what we were up to. I felt guilty because nearly everyone I invited to our Christmas bash showed up, some of them from quite a distance.
I also felt like I was missing out, as though somehow the world was moving on without me. Yes, it was only one weekend, and it's not like we were deprived: when a friend dropped in one afternoon, he found us lounging with drinks in our hot tub. Later, we treated ourselves to a wonderful dinner. My sweetie, bless his heart, said to me as we sat down to steak and red wine, flowers, candles, fine china and crystal, "Isn't this The Best? I would give up a fancy restaurant any day for this!" It's what many women wish to hear, I'm told, and I do love knowing Sweetie's first choice is to be with me in our home.
But I can tell you without a question or doubt: one hundred times out of one hundred, I will choose a place that's noisy, packed or overpriced if someone else makes the meal and brings it to me, even if the food is not as good as what I would make, which, in my humble opinion, it almost never is. I'm all for romance, but could it please be catered?