I feel like I’ve accidentally turned into a Bed and Breakfast. Yesterday, I came home after work and a dentist appointment and my lovely boyfriend had spent the day lounging about my house, eating, showering, watching Netflix, and relaxing. I was more than elated to see him even if had made me giggle a little bit that he’d been relaxing in my house, by himself all day.
Last night, he couldn’t spend the night again and me, fearing the dark and being alone, invited my friend to spend the night. We had spaghetti and drank wine and caught up on life because we hadn’t seen each other since early January, but then I left this morning after having made her coffee, given her doughnuts, cleaning the bathtub so she could use a bath bomb and relax, and leaving a key for her to lock the door behind her.
Again, the idea that she’s at my house just relaxing enjoying her morning makes me giggle a little bit and feel only a little weird, but this girl has been my friend for years so I trust her and I know she’s not gonna burn the house down.
Even still, it’s an odd and funny situation that I’ve deeply enjoyed and gotten some joy out of.
Who knows? Maybe this is who I should’ve been all along! Just a Bed and Breakfast host. I bet I’d make fucking bank.