Why can't I move a muscle? I can't seem to escape it. I find myself enjoying it's control. I don't want to leave, hoping it's there when I return.
Rest. And plenty of it.
There's so much in this great city to see. There's so much I should be doing right now. Tours and visits to places I've only read of, great shopping that lines all the closest streets, scenery that could nearly break my camera, a spa downstairs with people that would be happy to shower me with attention... but I can't... but I can't move.
I know that when my Christopher, my love, arrives, he will free from from that grasp, and I can't wait to enjoy the city in his strong arms.
But for now, besides the hours that I'm at work, I can't free myself from the comforts of fluffy, white, pristine sheets... that I don't have to wash. A bed that I don't even have to make. There aren't any toys on the floor to pick up, dishes to wash. I can catch up on my reading and, well, other fun things.
Seems infinitely more fun... doesn't it!
The sweet and simple pleasures of a mother in travel.
But don't worry, I'll be freed and out on the town in no time. Well, about 27 hours, to be exact. And you'll get some photos too... maybe too many.