The Day After

After hours and buckets of rain, it's finally stopped. The wind still blows and rainboots still abound but I would hazard to say that the weather is nice. I like it like this - cloudy, a little stormy, everyone walking around slightly subdued. I'm traitorously sitting in a Starbucks enjoying an iced coffee with milk and vanilla and a "Bistro Box," an item I think would be a brilliant addition to plane fare: cheese cuts, crackers made of more seed than cracker, apple slices, and a mini container of dried cranberries and almonds. Fresh and delicious (although I still haven't made up my mind about Brie unless it's smoked with ham and I'm at a pub in England) and the perfect compact size. When I'm starving on a 9-hour transatlantic flight, I'd appreciate such a snack. It would make flying a bit more enjoyable for those of us not in business class. I keep imagining that one day I'll have enough money to purchase first-class tickets on a regular basis, that I'll have a quaint apartment in Paris, and that somewhere on the planet will be parked a silver BMW to which I own the title. Unfortunately, I believe the first, single step to this particular journey of a thousand miles is having some idea of and obtaining a job I like. Which, I'm finding, is MUCH easier said than done.