What is happening to me?


I was at dinner, at a restaurant in Yountville, reluctantly plopping down $40 for a glass of wine and salad because I had just finished a city council presentation and rather felt like I deserved a treat. I was at the bar, with a couple of friends, and I left early.

Why? Because I wanted to come home and get in my bathtub. Now, granted, I have this big jacuzzi bathtub, and a great thick bath mat, and super glorious sensual smelling candles- seriously, my bathroom belongs in a movie- so it’s not like I was coming home early to a crappy shower. No, I came home to a steamy, wonderful, roomy bathing experience. I listened to NPR streaming on my computer, hearing about my man Obama winning in Iowa, and it was glorious.

But seriously, what single 35-year-old-woman, with a love of wine and conversation, forsakes all to come home to get in the tub? Me, I guess.

I can’t stop talking about how I want a life partner, and a family, and little ones, but as long as my life is still entirely my own, I’m going to take long baths, read until 2 AM, go to work at 7 AM if I want, drink the wine I want, and be as loud or as quiet as I want whenever I can, because all I can do is hope that someday I’ll look longingly back at these days as I’m chasing down my three-year-old who is running with my one-month-old in one arm and a pair of scissors in the other.