Am I rusty?

I just booked my flights to and from Boston: leaving August 26, returning October 1. I couldn't believe how it made me feel -- excited, absolutely, but also nervous as hell and scared about being away from home for so long.

What. The. Fuck?

I'm the same person who put together a monthlong trip to Europe on a whim. The same person who, six months after returning from that trip, was planning to live over there for a decent chunk of time. I've rented a car to drive from Berkeley to Arcata and back ... in one day. I did the same thing while on a business trip in Washington D.C., driving up to New York, having some Greek food in the Village, and cruising back into the nation's capital at 5 a.m.

I've been to Nice and the Isle of Greece while I sipped champagne on a yacht. Damn you, Charlene, you seventies singer.

I can't come to any sort of fist-slamming conclusions like this is why you should do it, damn it. I am doing it and it's damn good. Still, it doesn't stop me from being nervous in a way I haven't been nervous before. And you know what? That's just fine.