I don’t travel for work as often as I once did. At one point pre-babies (which is a life I barely remember) I was on the road from one end of Canada to the other at least two weeks out of the month.
It was not a bad gig for a young shift-worker’s fiancé/wife. I planned big trips when my husband was off shift so he could come with me and planned some of the more boring/regular trips when he was on a long stretch of night shifts.
Trust me, no one really wants to be around someone who is working a week worth of straight nights.
Shortly after returning to work post-Sugar Plum I left my traveling job for a less traveling job and never looked back.
But my professional responsibilities have always involved a little travel and while it does take a lot of work to get out the door even for a single overnight trip I won’t lie to you, I kind of look forward to having a night in a hotel room to myself.
Last night was that night. A full night in a fantastic city in a decent city-centre hotel and a super-king-sized-bed all to myself.
I packed my running shoes and gym clothes in case I felt like using the hotel gym.
I packed my curling iron in case I felt like trying out those beach curls I see all over Pinterest.
I packed my new bright red nail polish in case I felt like giving myself a mini-pedicure while sipping a glass of wine and watching a chick-flick.
I even packed a book. Yes a REAL book in case I felt like reading before going to bed.
But all of that extra stuff just made for a heavy suitcase because every single thing I thought I might feel like doing was just plain poorly thought out in the context of my actual work schedule.
I left my house at 5:30am and didn’t see my hotel room until 11pm that night.
When I woke up in the morning at 6am to get ready for my 7am meeting I had a single moment of enjoying the thought of not having to rush around to make the kids’ breakfasts and get them ready for school.
But instead I rushed around getting myself ready and out the door and simultaneously trying not to get hit by impatient commuters while following the iPhone’s walking directions to my meeting location.
In fact, it wasn’t until after my morning meeting when I rushed back to the hotel to pack up my things and check out before heading to three more meetings when I saw this sitting on the coffee table:
Apparently, I was on the ladies only floor and there were lots of treats hidden in my room. I didn’t even notice a single one.
While it may have been a good two days professionally, the hotel room went to complete waste. I don’t even know why I get all excited about a night in a hotel room by myself. The last time I blogged about a solo hotel stay I talked about doing this.
At least I had the good sense to throw the complimentary wine into my suitcase before checking out. I mean we certainly don’t want everything to go to waste!