I was so happy yesterday to leave work (at 2.30 p.m.) knowing that I wouldn't be returning until next Monday. The World may change for the worst, but somethings never change, my absolute boredom at work being one of them. It's a toss-up which will come first: my layoff or my quitting.

Not a few people have found it strange that I'd be taking a vacation in D.C. right now. It was planned out a few weeks ago, originally in combination with a business trip to our headquarters in the south. The business trip got pulled, but I decided to retain the personal part of the trip because I was so much looking forward to it, principally because I'll be getting to see my ex-boyfriend Shawn, whom I haven't seen in several years.

So far, the trip hasn't seemed much different than any other. I checked in and cleared security at the airport more rapidly than I would have in earlier days. Which left me with an hour and a half to kill before my flight. Once aboard the plane, things seemed much as they did before too. There were no ominous warnings from the pilot (just this morning I'd read in the New York Times ridiculous stories of pilots instructing passengers how to smother hijackers with blankets), no nervous passengers.

To be frank, I find it hard to sympathize with people and companies who are steering clear of flying right now. The skies are no more dangerous than before - in fact less so. Of course, you can't argue with people's fears; they're irrational, but no more irrational than my own fear of spiders and other creepie-crawlies.

Just for a second, as I waited for take-off, a vision came to my mind of passengers on those ill-fated flights that morning; how they'd have been sitting in their seats at take-off, entirely unsuspecting the changed world their fate would help create. And I could see then why people might be scared to fly.

You know, it's funny. I swore that today I wouldn't write, for once, about the terrorist incidents, or the looming war. I think we need a break from it - not everything needs to be about that. I mean, every article in the New York Times mentions it. Maybe I just want to read a movie review, or the architectural column, without it all having to relate to Hollywood's new-found love of sugar and spice, or how the trend towards ever-taller office buildings may change. Maybe; but here I am contributing to all that hot air, soul-searching and worry.

I am looking forward to the next few days though. I love D.C. even without the added enjoyment of seeing Shawn, and I'm hoping the weather will be sunny and Fall-crisp, and I'll maybe see some foliage. I want to sit outside at Starbucks in Dupont Circle, and watch the people pass by, and imagine fondly that I'm living a life of gentlemanly leisure, and that I never have to return to a world of corporate memos, HR policies, and sales seminars. It's hard to hold that image while on the plane, though, because everybody else in First Class seems to have a laptop out, with their spreadsheets scrolling, or the ubiquitous solitaire substitute for work.

I should give some background on my relationship with Shawn, because I probably haven't mentioned him here in a long while. Shawn was my first real boyfriend, way back eons ago when I was just out of grad school, a skinny twenty-three year old in Philadelphia. He was also the first guy I ever fell in love with, and, looking back, somewhat sadly I have to admit, probably the only guy I've ever fallen in love with.

We broke up, after something like eighteen months, only because it was becoming increasingly apparent to me that Shawn didn't love me in the way I loved him. He cared for me a great deal, and very much enjoyed my company, but he wasn't in love with me. And I was realistic enough to know that wasn't going to change, and that ever deepening heartbreak was coming down the line if I didn't end things. Our final weekend together was enormously emotional. It's really the only time in my adult life where I've cried buckets of tears.

Not long before he left for the drive back to Harrisbug (it was a long-distance relationship; he lived two hours away), he gave me his dogtags, which I've worn on and off ever since. Don't worry - I'm not still in love with Shawn. I'm far too sensible for that! I wear the dogtags as a sort of talisman, and also because I find dogtags kind of sexy anyway. But I do have a lot of affection for him, and I'm glad to see him again this week. He's the sweetest guy in the world, and still has a kind of innocence about him, which is still very appealing.

P.s. Got in late last night, and we stayed up talking until 1.00 in the morning. Up early this morning for a run, and then here we are at breakfast, just like old times. Will tell you more tonight or tomorrow.