Want him? Too bad, he's taken

As a thank you for my death-defying parenting maneuvers last week, Taxman bought me a spa package at a very shi-shi East Side place. Whoa.

It's two hours of worth of a facial, body scrub, and massage. (He knew to avoid anything with a pedicure or a foot massage because I am weird about my feet.) I may not want to come home.

And even better, he fielded the calls from the snot-filled AM last night. I slept undisturbed for close to four hours. Of course, my night ended at 3:23, but the prior sleep almost made up for that. Almost.