London Calling

Part of the pleasure of living in a DINK household is the freedom for spontaneity. The other part is actually being spontaneous. St. Pauly Boy and I aren't very spontaneous (unless you count going to the bar at the last minute instead of cooking dinner at home). We're pretty structured. We work Monday through Friday and for the most part stay home at night and watch TV. On weekends we go out on Fridays and stay home on Saturdays with two movies and either pizza or chinese take-out. Yes, having Stinky Pete does remove some of that flexibility to up and take a road trip for a weekend, on a whim. But we have lots of doggie-care resources. Lots. If Grandma and Grandpa can't take him (let's face it, they always WANT him, it's just whether or not they're available) then he goes to the luxurious Doggy-Spa where he's pampered and played with* and comes home nicely groomed and tired as hell. The Doggy-Spa is a dog-owners dream come true, minus the price tag, hence hitting up G-ma and G-pa before shipping him off to the Fabulous Life of Non-Celebrity Dogs.

So enough is enough. We're taking advantage of our place in life, we're dumping the dog at the Grandparents or the Doggy-Spa and we're heading over to Europe for a weekend. London, to be exact. I've never been, so I couldn't be more excited about it. We leave on a Friday night and return Monday afternoon. We'll have a total of 16 hours on the plane, there and back, and 48 hours total in the city.

Ok, so the real reason we're going is because St. Pauly Boy came up short for his Platinum status with his airline this year. Platinum isn't something you just want to give up. So I told him I would support him flying to Europe and back just to get the miles. And then when I really thought about it, there's just no way in hell I'm letting him go alone. So off to London we go. I cannot wait!!
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*Here's how spoiled Pete is: I actually fork over an extra amount per day at the Doggie-Spa so Pete can get extra playtime. Good fucking god, I'm a maniac.