John and I stayed at “our” place in the city last night (a.k.a. our friend’s studio that he is generously letting us enjoy while he’s away). I don’t think we even realized how wonderfully like a vacation it could be.
John just got his schedule and realized that he had two days off in a row. When in residency, this was almost unheard of, so I think we’re still in the take-advantage-and-go-do-something-while-you-have-the-chance mode…not a bad place to be. We ran down our list of options: camping; B&B; trip to Fallingwater; another treehouse overnight; a quick excursion to NYC or D.C. Then we though, f— it. We totally love road-tripping together and all, but sometimes the last thing you want to do is really go somewhere.
This Center City studio gave us the luxury of having a night on the town (without having to worry about staying sober enough to get home) and the novelty of staying somewhere other than at our actual home (pretending for a night to be a fancy-smancy two-home type of couple…yyyeeaaaah, with hundreds of thousands of dollars of student loans, like that will be happening ever). After dinner and fro-yo, we finally made it out to this old speakeasy I’d been hoping to try. I had the Continental Divide, followed by the Dead Turk., and I was completely sloshed. Hep A has really done a number on my tolerance.
We slept in, then had brunch at Ants Pants, which is kind of an institution around here. I’d never been because the line is always around the block on the weekends, but at 11am on a Monday, it was pretty sleepy. Deliciously so, in every respect.
It was one delightfully sticky summer retreat in the city, a very much appreciated getaway!