Probably everyone says they prefer to sleep in their own bed, but I'm pretty pathological about it. I kinda can't sleep anywhere else.
So I put it on my to-do list for 09.
Last night was a trial run. Movies + a sleepover, in another town.
I love movies. I especially love Death Race - the night's feature attraction. Plus the house I was going to has all the comforts of home (HBO, TiVo, Ambien) but better -a nicer kitchen with all the top chef tools (where he heats up the Stouffers), a home theater with a 60+ inch screen, and a nice master bedroom flatscreen with 42 inches (I asked).
Popcorn and my boy Jason Statham made for a pretty good evening (yes, I do realize he doesn't meet my height requirement, as was pointed out to me all night long). Bedtime was accompanied by Orangina, Ambien, comforting re-runs of Family Guy, and the compulsory Ambien-chatter that (as always) I can barely remember: Kate Hudson's putting a lot of weight on in her face; maybe she's pregnant; no way Diane Lane is younger than I am; do you think she's younger than I am?
That kinda thing.
Followed by repeated assurances from the host that he had indeed hidden all the birthday pastries I'd brought him from Fresh Market. That tulip full of mousse coulda spelled death - unfamiliar stairs + a kitchen under construction + ambien-snacking.
At some point, I must've stopped talking and dozed off on a Tempur-Pedic mattress much nicer than mine, on sheets with even higher thread count than I have at home.
I woke up to a 60 degree January day and what sounded like Spring Rain on the roof.
I was considering the experiment successful even BEFORE he said those three little words every girl longs to wake up to everyday: "You want bacon?"