After the longest possible time getting home (although I didn't have to stay overnight in Texas, as some people may have had to thanks to cancelled flights due to "weather"), ahhh, I'm back.
I'm also in *sort of* of a better mood.
There was something about being around 14,000 librarians that made me feel kind of panicky and uncomfortable.
That's why on Sunday, I played a bit of hooky and went to the National Gallery to just wander around by myself. It was SO worth it. I even got to do one of my favorite things, which is enjoy a snack in the Museum Cafe. I love, love, love museum cafes, and I don't know why. I should add them to my favorite things list, though.
Each day I was in DC (had I even mentioned, in all of my recent emotionally charged posts that I would be heading out to the home of the Washington Monument and the Redskins?), I almost enjoyed getting up to take the bus and then the Metro and got around the city just fine.
There were moments when I thought, "I could do this. I could live in a city again."
I hauled my ginormous suitcase around escalators (thus having to face my great fear of tumbling off an escaltor, which was greatly heightened by having a 50 pound suitcase behind me, easily capable of pushing me down). I bought food in restaurants. I fought hordes of librarians for free books.
Then, I remembered hiking through the snow in Boston to get to the T. I remembered being so lonely in my apartment that I couldn't even cry. I remembered having to take a bus to get to the promised land, aka Target, and then having to haul all of my prizes bag on the bus. I remembered starting over from scratch with no one to love me.
And I realized that even if I am capable of doing that again, I don't want to.
One of my last dreams, the one of living a glamorous, metropolitan life, has fallen prey to the comforts of the suburbs, the promise of quiet in the country.
And I don't mind one bit.