It’s almost always easier to stay than go.
Let me get a little more specific.
Yesterday, I met with a client and then got stuck in some of Boston’s finest traffic, making the usually fifteen minute trip home stretch to about an hour. I was tired and hungry and would’ve enjoyed just sitting down for a minute. My wound hurt. Yes–my wound. I can say that now, because I have one under my right arm. My surgeon put it there. Speaking of my surgeon, he is awesome. He gave me his personal cell phone number to call him, should anything need his immediate attention (when my arm was feeling numb a few days after the surgery, I did call him. But I chickened out on calling his cell. I just felt like that was too personal or something, and dialed up his secretary, instead. I would never ever want to be accused of abusing the absolute priviledge I have of walking around with an amazing surgeon’s digits in my pocket. So therefore I will probably never actually use that number. But I still have it, which counts a lot).
Dear friends of mine here in Boston and I had scheduled a dinner about a month ago. Do you know how often this kind of thing happens for me? Let’s just say it happens a little bit more than going to the movie theater, which says absolutely nothing because the last movie I saw in a theater was…(I’m drawing a blank, so just wait a minute as I think…)–it could’ve been the first Hunger Games (which is the only Hunger Games I’ve seen; but I’ve read all the books and am just as creeped out by President Snow as you). No wait, did that How We Killed Osama Bin Laden Movie come out after that? Because I saw that one, too.
(Speaking of Osama Bin Laden–when everyone first started talking about him, they always reffered to him as Bin Laden. So I actually just thought it was Ben Lawden. Like one of the most American sounding names in the books. Maybe even Amish. Turned out he wasn’t American, and was certainly not Amish.)
My point is, that I hardly ever go out–and even less so with a group of friends. And you guys! I LOVE friends! I love sitting down and lingering over a menu and then finding that rhythm of talking then listening then laughing, etc. And it’s all so different when you’re alone with your friends, as opposed to when you’re with your wonderful toddler who hates to sit for very long (very long being anything more than five minutes) and loves to shriek and wants more than anything to GO! and WALK! and that is about as different from lingering as one can get.
So last night I did something unusual. I had my sister watch Charlee when I wasn’t even working (so luxurious, I know). I got home from a long day and turned right around to go back out. I put on a top and didn’t even consider the Great Nursing In Public Dilemma before doing so. I got home later than normal and was tired when I did. But what happened in between all that was worth it. Because my friends and I sat on a patio off Newbury street in the no-longer-as-stifling-heat-since-the-sun-went-down and took our time eating and talking. Nobody threw their food off the table (on purpose, anyway). Nobody screamed because they were sitting when they wanted to be walking. And man, we talked about so many things. Shoes and DIY projects and motherhood and wedding planning and the pain we’ve survived and whether or not we’d choose that pain again (in case you’re wondering, I would, for good reason; in case you’re still wondering, my friend would not, for good reason, too). We talked like words were on sale, so why not grab a little more than normal; we talked like friendship mattered more than who any of us will vote for in November (and I have no idea who any of them even are voting for).
I loved the evening. It was worth paying a baby sitter. Worth turning right back around and leaving again as soon as I got home initially. Worth going to bed a little later. Worth shaking up the routine. Which is why I need to keep reminding myself that the easiest thing is oftentimes not the best thing (unless we’re talking slip-on shoes verses laces for a toddler, AMIRIGHT?).