I leave this afternoon for a two-day business trip.  I remember how I used to love business travel when I was single.  When I lived in Chicago, I was gone a week out of every month, and I could scarcely believe the luck.  Fly to new cities, stay in hotels much nicer than my apartment, eat on someone else's dime AND earn frequent flyer miles for free?  Whoopeee!!  Sign me up!

Even after I got married, I didn't mind it so much. It was sort of fun to take a bath, control the remote and drink guilt-free every night.

Then the little angel came along.

I'm such a sucker.  I had to kiss her goodbye extra-fast at the Emerald City's door this morning, then run to my car to keep from crying in front of her.  I'm only going to be gone two nights, but already I can feel the achy-sick feeling in my stomach that always comes when I know I'm going to have to fly somewhere without her.  When my beloved is along, he can quickly convince me she'll be fine, everything will be fine, stop this silliness already.  But when I'm alone, it's all I can do to physically restrain myself from turning the car around and calling an end to the madness already.

I know that I'm being ridiculous. Thank goodness Goofy Girl will be along on the flight to force-feed me some wine and convince me that two nights angel-free means two nights to enjoy the company of adults, two whole nights of unbroken sleep and maybe even an adult conversation at dinner.

But still. 

Wah.