So Tuesday night my husband and I went out dancing. To tell you the truth it was a very spare the moment type of thing and we just went with it. I booked a sitter for the night and off we went.
It was a record release party, at a club, a real club. One of my favorite clubs, to be exact. And we had a blast.
It felt so good to be out, dancing, talking to other people, drinking, talking a little more and drinking a little more.
See, that's what I love about New York City. It was only Tuesday night, but there were a ton of people out. And for a few hours I felt young and free again. The guilt of leaving our son at home with a stranger only hit a couple of times, but it was nothing that a good couple of tequila shots couldn't tame. It was good to feel intoxicated by the alcohol, cigarette smoke and incredibly loud music and I loved every minute of it.
Until Luca reminded me, at 6am, that I'm his and only his. Obviously not happy to be left at home with a stranger and knowing that we came back home at 2.30am, he decided to teach me a lesson. And a good one too!
(Now I know why we never go out anymore. It's too much work and it takes me 2 days to recover).