I miss the Pullman.
What is the Pullman?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
It is the hotel where we stayed last week in Stuttgart, Germany while Tony worked.
With a playground and an organic supermarket right across the street, air-conditioned rooms with comfy pillows, fresh towels and chocolate that magically appeared every day, a flat screen television for watching the Olympics, and a swimming pool and fitness center downstairs complete with fresh lemon water and green apples, it was pure luxury for this mamma who usually stays in cheap (but charming) apartments or hotels when traveling and is now baking in her hot home on a bumpy road that is a 20 minute drive from the nearest playground or pool and Lord knows how far from an organic market, with crunchy towels that I have to hang out to dry myself and certainly no magically-appearing chocolate, no television hookup and an incredibly inefficient AC system...
Strangely, though. I've grown to love our Italian villa and the life we have made in it. If someone asked me if I wanted trade it in for the Pullman, my answer would be no. Okay, that's not true. My answer would be sometimes. Sometimes I wish I could trade it all in for some luxury.
Honesty is a virtue.
Now, could somebody please magically transport me back to Germany? I have some really important relaxation to do.
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