When the boss says "go to New Hampshire," you go, and so here I am. I think I belabored this point sufficiently in the Brazil posts, but I really hate traveling. I especially hate traveling alone.

In those posts, I also belabored the point that Beto is a saint, and so in keeping with that theme, my #1 Homey hooked me up with first class upgrades on the flights, which certainly has made the experience mildly palatable (and assured sufficient overhead bin space... hallelujah neuroses, can I get an AMEN?). But here I sit, getting ready to crash at 7:41 PST so I can be up at 7 am EST for depositions, and all I can think about is how much I miss my husband, and my kids, and... well, that certain comfort that comes with knowing that the dust mites in the bed are all your own (c.f. Oprah exclusive on microscopic disgusting things) and the nastiness in the shower is just soap scum.

It did occur to me, though that I really am no longer an east coaster. Not only am I surprised by how rude people are and how unintelligible the New England accents are, but I had completely forgotten about toll roads and 8 foot high snow banks. I am also paying a ridiculous rate for an SUV because I have forgotten how to drive in the snow. Yes, ladies and germs, I've gone soft. But I'm no hippie.

Buenos Nachos Bell Grande.