I have to laugh. When I tell friends about my trip this is, by far, the comment I hear most often:

“A whole month B Y  Y O U R S E L F in that apartment!”

Imagine: One whole month. Thirty days. Thirty nights. No husband. No children. No dogs, AND no laundry!!!


{ They are celebrating, too. For a whole month they can eat white bread and potato chips and no mama to bitch at them. }

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