Speaking of terrible made-up words, you guys who assured me that a “staycation” wouldn’t be lame, were right.
We got a hotel room in Philly for the night, and it was seriously perfect. We were able to visit all of our favorite places, taking occasional breaks to crash in a big comfy bed. It was a little like a Hemingway novel. We spent the entire day eating and drinking and stopping in one cute cafe and fun bar after the other.
But, we also took advantage of Restaurant Week, which was a neat little surprise (I think it usually happens a few weeks before our anniversary each year?). And, naturally, I had the chance to wear one certain new dress.
The sort of sick thing is that on a night away from our boy, with all of its drinking and dining and shopping and hoteling, we still ended up buying something for him, and not ourselves. But, really? Old man sweater? Suspenders? It could not be avoided.
We originally joked that maybe we’ll have enough money for the South of France next year, but I don’t know. This whole hotel in Philly thing might become a new tradition.
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