My last week in the Midwest is done. I had vowed I'd make it out of there before the bitterly cold winter of the Plains descended in all it's frosty fury. And I was thiiiiiis close to making it. Until I woke up on Thursday morning to a drifting of snow outside my hotel window. Well, crap.
Glanced at the thermostat on the wall, indicating a lovely 76* inside. Checked my phone for the temps outside. 25*. Sighed, put on my big girl panties and got up to start my last day on the project there.
Trudged a half mile through the snow in open-toe heels, bare legs, and business dress to the office, and alternating between cursing Mother Nature and admiring the way the snowflakes looked as they twirled down, ran through my to-do list:
Meetings with the client.
Clean out the hotel room mini-fridge.
Phone conference with the kids' school.
Take my bike to the airport to ship.
Make a doctors appointment for next week.
Make a marriage counseling appointment too.
Not a moment to breathe, at least until I got on the plane one last time (for this project anyway).
And later that night, as I walked across the rinky-dink tarmac, and up the steps to the rinky-dink plane, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Made it. Survived it. Glad to be done with it.
And now back to reality...
Away from the green, away from relative freedom of no demands on my time, away from the relative luxury of eating out every day and hotel living. Back to the desert and being a fulltime mom. Back to work issues, school performances, family life, sailing and most importantly... being home.
