I went to a spa with two great friends yesterday.
I'm just going to let that sentence hang there for a moment, because it deserves some time and space to be absorbed.
I basically spent an entire Sunday without doing anything for anyone but me. The event is so rare and mystical that it can only be described as a Unicorn Day. And it was wonderful.
Years ago, when Hannah was maybe one or two, my mother-in-law invited my sister-in-law and I to a lovely spa in Norwich, CT, and we enjoyed a day there together. For my birthday last fall, Marc got me a gift card to go back there, and fortunately, it's still the same oasis of calm it was about a decade ago. It's a 90 minute drive from Boston, and I actually did all of the driving, which is huge for me. I didn't even mind that. It was an easy trip, and we chatted the entire way. We actually didn't stop talking for almost the entire day, except for the hour we spent apart getting our treatments.
I had a fabulous massage. We used the hot tub and sauna. We drank cold beverages on the patio. We had a lovely lunch, followed later by hot apple cider and scones. Our only regret was not scheduling more treatments or even staying overnight; once we were there, we definitely wanted more.
I only checked my phone once, very briefly. I didn't even text to say I was on my way back. (Though we watched Hillary's campaign announcement from the car because we couldn't postpone that historic moment.) When I got home, I was relaxed enough to ignore the waiting housework. Now you know that's truly remarkable for me.
We were already planning our next visit before we even left. The only problem with that? I won't be able to call it a Unicorn Day if it happens more often.
It's a risk I'm willing to take.