Some trips will keep me away from this project for about a week. If you're bored, I suggest you reflect on how much you think I hate the city of Boston, triple it, and then have an imaginary argument with me about what a dick I am, or, alternatively, nod quietly in agreement and feel relief that you're not the only one who hates that dead city and its rancid baseball team.*
Make yourself at home while I'm gone. I left a spare set of keys at the bar down the street, and there are fresh towels and linens for your convenience. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge, but I'm pretty sure the milk is spoiled, so sniff before you drink. Always glad to help.
*Some of you like the Red Sox. I've been dealing with this for the better part of a decade. It doesn't make me think less of you. I've even gone to bars to watch games with you, and pretended to support the team out of concern for your emotional well being. Instead of getting pissed at me for hating all things affiliated with that heinous fucking city ("Wouldn't it be great if we combined the worst of Staten Island and Park Slope as one?") think about what a nice loyal friend I am for being supportive while I gnash my teeth. You may deserve happiness, but no one in Boston does. Go Indians.