What I imagined was a leisurely morning, coffee in one hand and the Washington Post in the other down at the Dupont Starbucks. No last minute rush. I certainly didn’t imagine this – me, naked in front of my computer, and my apartment looking like Ivan tore through here on his way to drowning the Southern coast. Jeff says that it’s a character flaw that I should want a clean apartment to greet my return. His own travel preparations — kids, minivan, booster seats — resemble a recent nightmare…
I am otherwise ready. The grant proposals are the mail, the bills are paid, the iPod is charged, and my mother has been given all my travel information she’s been demanding for days. (Mom, I am not coming home. Love, Tammi.)
I suppose it’s time to get my clothes on.
