On my last day in Boston, it rained like the whole state of Massachusetts was sad to see me go. There were great bolts of lightening, overflowing drains, and mini flash floods. It didn't stop until I left. Now, I know weather patterns are in no way influenced by a a human being coming or going from a specific geographical location, but just let me have this one.
It's been a few days since I have written about anything, really. It's not my fault. I'm depressed, even more so since I left Boston. Everything about the trip was perfect, but few days will hold a candle to my trip into the city. Seriously, Boston, keep it up.
Like most great adventures, days start to blur together. Wednesday was one of those sleepy days that all vacations have. It's the middle of the trip and you're trying to decide if you can take one more step or if you're going to dime for the personal driver you've always wanted and deserved. The pesky business of money is all that stops you.
Boston is on fire. I mean, not in the literal sense, but in that "holy-shit-is-this-an-oven" sort of way. Before I got here, Harriet warned me that it might be a little cool. Foolishly, I packed a sweater. I did not need a sweater.
This is my Summer of Yes. After spending so many years worrying about what other people think and being overly practical, I'm finally doing whatever seems fun an enriching. So, three weeks ago, I bought a plane ticket to visit my best friend in Boston where she has been working on her thesis for the last 1000 years. And a plane ticket under $200? How could I say no to kismet?