greetings from new england.

Once, in the sleepy island town of Nantucket, Massachusetts, there lived (temporarily) a girl of 25 who did not entirely know what to do with her life. Retail was getting her down, and vacation was making her antsy. She had spent nearly a month weary with both. Uh, she thought, I probably shouldn't complain. Luckily for her (but not so luckily for her pocketbook), she had discovered a lovely, independent bookstore, only two blocks from her room at the lodge.

The girl's husband was less fond of this proximity. "Aren't you ready to leave, yet?" he'd had to ask, multiple times, on both visits. The answer had been no, of course. But, he'd let her roam for so long already, and done so well (2:45:58) in the race that brought them to New England in the first place, that it seemed unfair for her to dig her heels into the floor, tempting as it was. Graciously, he did let her buy the handful of things that had stolen her heart. To rephrase: she was going to buy those things regardless. Her husband was gracious about it. "But next time," he added, "we're setting a souvenir budget."

That evening, while her husband slept off his prime rib and beer (men), the girl redid the look of her blog, and then wrote about herself in the third person. It wasn't quite as delightful as buying new books, or fantasizing about quitting her day job (and forgoing all future day jobs) to be a successful novelist and actress, but it would suffice until then. She hoped.

The girl found this photo on the internet. It is, surprisingly,
the exact view she'd had while eating lunch the day before.