Soloing. For Real This Time.

Tomorrow begins nine days of pure, unadulterated freedom.

Erm, I mean. . . Tomorrow morning my Valentine and Life's Love leaves for over a week, and he's taking both my babies with him. All the joy and light will drain from my sorry existence, leaving me a hollow wretch of a woman until their glorious return.

I'm a little torn.

I'm worried about being lonely. And I'm worried I will love it.

This could be the only time - at least for the foreseeable future - that I will have this opportunity. I doubt I will be alone in my own house for an extended period of time until after this currently gestating whelp leaves for college.

And it's not like the rest of my family will be suffering. Bump will be in Florida, where it is warm. He may fit in a round or two of golf. His mother will be infinitely more helpful than I am: she's retired, so she will be around all day to help; she will cook; she will take care of all the laundry. She will spoil our children so rotten that when they get back I will spend weeks explaining that a bowl of whipped cream is not an acceptable appetizer.

My work schedule makes it impossible for me to join them, but should allow me to be home by 8 or 9 every night. And right in the middle of those nine days, there is the weekend. Two whole days of fat, sweet sweet liberty.

Here's my problem:

Every time I have harbored the thought "If I weren't married with two kids, I would _____," that blank usually begins with the words "get really drunk and . . ."

Since getting really drunk is clearly out of the question right now (dammit), and most of the things that follow "get really drunk and. . ." don't make logical sense to attempt sober, what should I do with all this unfettered time?

I feel as though catching up on saved TV shows is a waste of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. (Don't worry, I plan to spend some time vegged out in front of the tube, watching the kind of programming that makes Bump shudder when he sees it taking up memory on the Tivo. But I can't spend every night doing that, right?)

On Wednesday the contractor will begin tearing apart our bathroom. I have a to-do list as long as my arm, mostly related to de-cluttering the apartment and getting it ready to market. I'll spend at least a night or two packing up things to send to storage.

I also plan to go bra shopping.

So, what else, Internet? Since doing tequila shots and Prince William is off the table, what should I do on my Family Vacation*? Help me out, here. What would you do?

*It's a vacation. From my family. It's a Family Vacation.