Dear South Florida,
I miss you. I know I have only been gone for a few hours, but it's true. No, I don't mean to whine or sound like a high schooler separated from her first boyfriend, but it's true.
I take back my grumbling about needing a vacation after the ridiculous hours I put in for an event this week. Right now I am sitting in a desolate room in New York, Westchester County to be exact and it's rainy, overcast and foggy. The trees are nowhere near in bloom and there's not event a hint, a flirtation of the bright bursts of color you see all over Miami.
Oh Miami, I promise when I come back that I will lounge lazily on your beaches, without a care in the world.
Until then you will find me pouting like a hormone-driven 16 year old. In New York.
p.s. - Sitting in the airport for an extra two hours, and then flying in circles for an hour was really not awesome.