Have you ever done that stupid thing where you arrive at the airport to fly home on a Sunday night and you go to check in and they don’t have your ticket because your ticket is for the flight the night after that?

Yeah that happened. To me. Last night. The night before one of my best friends and her mother were arriving for a week-long visit from the UK, and the night before Monday, the most stressful day at the office where I tie up all loose ends pertaining to my half of the Dig. 123 NOT AWESOME right? Instead of shrugging it off with a “Fuck it” and spending the day on the South Santa Monica Beach with Los before catching my actual flight home, I panicked about the work I have to do this week — Dig-wise/move-wise/writing-wise — and set my alarm for 5:30am so that I could be at LAX at the crack of dawn to make it onto the first flight to Boston. It worked, I wasted all of Tuesday traveling back and arrived to my mom picking me, Esme and her mom up from Logan, all smiles, before bringing us back to her house for a lovely dinner.

And then I took a deep breath, and realized that I had just spent nearly a week in a new, fun, fascinating city with my very best friend, and that I was lucky enough to be met by another best friend and my mom upon my return for a week full of home-cooked meals and girls’ nights before my mom and I head to Brooklyn for the weekend to check out my new place.

So: it’s time for bed because holy shit the last 24 hours have been stressful has hell, but damn, they were worth it.

More on LA later, but in the meantime, I need recommendations for places to take my mom in Brooklyn that won’t scare her to death or serve her beef tongue or something, so holler away.

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