How is it midnight? I’m still on West Coast time and I have to go to work tomorrow. Realities like that can wipe out an entire vacation’s worth of relaxation.

It was time to come home, though, and it feels good. No matter where you’re coming from, there’s something about coming back to New York. When I take a train back to the city and I get into Penn Station – that ugly, claustrophobic, clusterfuck of a building – and take those stairs up to 7th Avenue and 32nd Street, I always feel like I’m home. Tonight I got into JFK and took the serpentine route to the taxis and forty-five minutes and as many dollars later I was home.

So much of coming home to New York is about inconvenience, beautiful beautiful East Coast, New York inconvenience. It’s crowded and it’s too damn hot for September. This is where I live.

My girlfriend and I played the New York Game in Seattle. Could we live here? Seattle is cool. There’s a lot of history. There’s a lot of tech jobs. It’s beautiful. The winter’s are mild. It never gets too hot. There are lots of cool neighborhoods, restaurants, breweries, coffee shops. It’s a great city. But it’s not New York. This is where I live.

Tomorrow I go back to work and, oddly, I’m looking forward to it. I do have that post vacation anxiety which is usually pretty pointless. You know when you go away and you worry that no one can get along without you and everyone will freak out in your absence? And then you get back and only a handful of people notice that you were gone? I’m just hoping that holds true tomorrow.

Alright, it’s late. Regular life awaits.