Hot spots, ice packs, hand-warmers and home

I spent most of my weekend with R at her gym again - I'm hooked. I'm not sure exactly what the allure is; at the end of the day it's just a gym. Well, a cross between a gym and a playground. With supplemental eye candy and a killer steam room.

The rest of the weekend BF and I spent alternating between nesting and socializing. Oh, and massaging my shin splints and stretching out a super tight ITB. I wasn't about to miss a day at R's gym, but I paid the price.

On Saturday night we met R and some of her friends in line outside Middlesex Lounge, where we waited for an hour and a half about two feet from the door. I get max capacity and fire codes and all, but come on. An hour and a half? I can't stand in line for an hour and a half - I'm a self-respecting Jersey girl. I wouldn't even wait that long in NYC. Around 11:15, the bouncers distributed hand-warmers to the crowd. The hype was nauseating. So even though we had our hearts set on martinis and dancing, we called it dead around 11:40 and hailed a cab.

We dragged ourselves back home, I had about 10 Oreos and that was our Saturday night. But honestly, by the time we keyed into the apartment, all I really wanted to do was curl up with BF and remember why it's so fun to be lame on the weekend. I love being out with BF, but what I love even more is how excited I am to have him all to myself again as we stumble back home and collapse into bed... and our own little universe.