Nine Hour Rejuvenation

I knew I was going to be out late last night, for work. In a moment of stunning selflessness, my husband called his sister and asked for a favor: a night in the swanky NYC hotel in which she works. Bingo.

So, I left the theater at about 11:00 in a chilly drizzle, checked into the hotel at 11:30, poked around every corner of the enormous one-bedroom suite with one and a half baths, opened every curtain to reveal the cityscape from the 42nd floor, soaked in a hot fragrant bubble bath, and slept well in the king-size bed unimpeded by kicking child or snoring husband.

In the morning, room service delivered fruit and croissants and coffee and the newspaper, and I sat on the windowsill in the sunshine - eating my breakfast, peering into distant windows, watching the gnat-sized taxis dance about below, and reading the paper.

Then I packed up my bag, turned in my key, and headed out into spring.

Nine hours. I almost feel human again.