There’s nothing like coming back from a trip where you felt like a kickass goddess to knock you down back where you belong.

First of all, there’s the jet lag, which makes you feel about as glamorous as an earthworm. Then there’s the windowless office, that ensures that your world shrinks back down from a sun-splashed, autumn-dappled east coast adventure, complete with skyscrapers, starstruck fans, and one-martini lunches to a backlog of boring, work-related e-mails.

There’s the first draft of your second novel, up to 5,000 words now, which is possibly the most boring, most trite, most clichéd thing ever written.

So one must live in the past. Ah yes, I remember so long ago, on Wednesday night…when I got to have a beer with the Kissing Slut! Now, whether I become a famous writer or I vanish into obscurity, it really doesn’t matter because all it takes is one person telling you how much they love your writing to make your entire writing career worthwhile. I felt like a celebrity, I tell you! Plus, she was a blast to hang out with. If you ever go to Boston, hook up with the Kissing Slut. She will show you a good time for sure.

Oh yeah, and then there was later Wednesday night when I got to go out for drinks with not one, but two cute Bostonian guys all by myself! Plus Wednesday and Thursday, which I spent wandering around Boston in the fall sunshine with my long-lost friend M, discovering things like the amazing Boston Public Library, charming Hanover Street, and chocolate-chip cannolis. Mmm.

Now, well. I’m certainly glad I survived my flights. That is a minor miracle. But it is pouring down rain outside and gray and cold* and I am now about to go park myself in traffic for God knows how many hours-on-end. Now I’m no longer a celebrity, just a girl who is tired and melancholy.

Welcome home!

*Ok, it's true. I actually like this kind of weather. I just put that there 'cause it sounded good.