Well, today was a giant slap in the face.
As you recall from yesterday's post, I spent the past 5 days with a glass of wine in hand by 1pm (yikes, even typing that gives me a headache); being greeted by the friendly and efficient Four Seasons staff (they even tweeted me!); and holding a smiling baby in my arms with no greater challenge in a day than making sure she fell asleep comfortably in my arms.
I awoke to my alarm at 4:45am. I arrived at work in the pitch dark. I left my yogurt in the car. I produced, wrote scripts, answered emails, attended meetings, processed invoices. I grumpily called my mom to inform her I hate being an adult and I have zero groceries. I bought groceries, unhappy that a magic fairy did not stock my pantry while I was away. And I finally stumbled back through the door 12 hours later.
Where's that perky Four Seasons staff member when you really need them?!
But as I walked around my house, I got a whiff of something wonderful.
No, unfortunately, it wasn't a personal chef whipping up dinner in the kitchen.
It was the smell of my house, the same smell it had nearly a year ago when I first moved in.
I walked from room to room, turning on lamps, shutting blinds, my feisty little kitten chasing me every step of the way.
And like a fever waiting to break, my cranky spell subsided.
I thanked God for a job that kept me busy today- and seemed to miss me in my absence.
I thanked God for the kitten biting my feet.
I thanked God for a mom who listens to me whine about my lack of groceries.
And I thanked God for the smell of my house.
Who needs the Four Seasons when you have home?