Tomorrow afternoon, we fly out to the East Coast to Boston for two days, and then on to New York. For some, that would mean tonight would feature mad scrambling and packing, tidying up, and checking of the Weather Channel multiple times an hour. For me, the sense of insecure panic hasn't taken over. It usually doesn't - at least unless I think I'm in danger of missing the flight (which usually means I'm only 20 minutes early). In fact, I don't even like to pack for a trip until the morning of, just so I can put that part of a trip off as long as possible.

Besides, the sooner I get the carry-on luggage out and start going through the closet for things, the dog tends to get suspicious, and from what I understand, she gets incredibly needy when I'm away. I don't know why that is particularly, especially as she lived here before I did, but that's what I've been told. The longer I can keep the fact I'm leaving a secret from her, the better off we'll all be.

Last year I tacked on more than 25,000 miles with United, flying out not only to Boston and New York, but to Orlando, Seattle, Chicago, Phoenix, Los Angeles, and Baltimore, to name a few places. Unfortunately, this week's trips are on American, and I don't have any kind of frequent traveler plan with those guys yet, so I'm basically screwed. That probably means I'll be in the middle seat of the middle row of the middle plane - and the cardboard I'll be passed as a substitute for food will have holes in it... and ... okay, I lied a little. I've already checked the weather, and it is going to be frickin' cold. We think it's cold here, just over 50 degrees, but Boston's a balmy 35 degrees now, on the way down to 28, and we don't get in until after 10 tomorrow night. Yuck. And no good excuses to go either. No Red Sox. No Fenway Park. Just business.