Jason and I had a night to ourselves Friday night. Yes, the WHOLE night. It was fabulous. I booked us a room at a gorgeous seaside Inn and Spa and ordered two in-room massages for us. It was positively idyllic. Spacious room with a giant four poster king, overlooking the bay, fireplace and enormous window seat with pillows and a lap throw.
I got there before Jason and jumped into the tub-for-six to ruthlessly shave my hairy legs and everything else (yeah, no waxing for me these days). Jason got there and I had my spa robe on, and a glass of wine. (I’m cheap, so I brought my own wine and gin & tonic and limes for Jason into the hotel room.) However, the hotel had left a cheese plate and champagne bucket as part of our package so we sat on the window seat together watching the ships, eating some very flavorful and strong cheeses and drinking our respective beverages. Yummmmm. So Jason decided that he wanted to jump in the shower before the massage therapists got to our room, and I just sat there and soaked it all in. I looked up at Jason lovingly as he walked back to the window seat in his robe and sat down and looked at the cheese plate. He paused, then said “Oh, my gosh. I totally thought that smell was my feet. It’s the cheese.” Floaty romantic interlude brought to earth with resounding crash.
I took a big bite of the offending stinky cheese and a sip of wine, just as the knock on the door sounded with our massage therapists, Sven and Inga. (I actually don’t remember their real names). They brought in the most elegantly appointed massage tables I have ever seen, both of them in their spa uniforms and severely groomed hair…and I just knew I was going to be breathing stinky cheese into Sven’s face. Whatever, it was the best massage I’ve ever had.
Just at the end of our massages, there was a knock on the door. It was our Little Caesar’s Pizza….say it with me folks, KLASS-EEEE! (Told you I was cheap). Jason just muttered into his face cradle, “There’s a twenty in the back right pocket of my jeans on the bathroom floor, just give it to them and tell them to go away.” You know, something akin to snapping your fingers at a waiter in a fine restaurant and calling him ‘Garçon”. (Just kidding Jason!)
Anyway, Sven and Inga left us in peace after our massages with jell-o bodies and Jason and I enjoyed our evening and morning together more than any other in recent memory. It’s been so long since the two of us could just sit and look at each other….and it was well needed, as the storms of our lives continue to rage outside our door. Happy Anniversary, honey. I’d do it all again in an instant ~ you're the love of my life, stinky feet and all.
No comments:
Post a Comment