We’re back from another whirlwind trip to the homeland, chock full o’ family fun, old friends, sleepless nights, overindulgences of the culinary nature, and the usual drinking and debauchery required on any New York excursion.

But unlike all previous vacations, in which we return home just in time to go back to work, this time I built in 3 extra days post-trip to sleep till noon and sit home all day in my PJs. Which is a good thing, considering I was up till 5 this morning finishing a book. It forced me to oversleep, cutting into my precious Big Day of Doing Nothing, but don’t you just love when you’re that into a book?

The author, Libba Bray, lives in Brooklyn. When I read in her acknowledgments that she’d written the book at the Tea Lounge, I staged my own excursion to the place, Alex and his brother in tow. I’d been to the Tea Lounge on a previous visit, but that was before I knew about Libba. Truth be told, it wasn’t so much about stalking a great author (that was just part of the package) as it was an opportunity to sit among the other tea-drinkers tap-tap-tapping away on their Macs and pretend that I, too, had written a book at the Tea Lounge. That I, too, had befriended the staff (who would ask me how the book was coming as they endlessly refilled my tea and would laugh when I included our little inside jokes in the acknowledgments of my book). That I, too, could finally call myself a writer. See, apparently there’s a difference between actually writing and just sitting around in one’s PJs drinking coffee and thinking about writing. Who knew?

All this talk of writing (or not writing) and New York reminds me of an earlier post in which I finally admonished the big corporate suck (are you all okay with that term? I’ve decided that “corporate world” is too cliche and “corporate life” is an oxymoron, so let’s just call it what it is.), accepted my destiny as a writer – a real live one, even – and began the official countdown to the rest of my life. 156 days of sitting in the office – that’s what I had left. According to that calendar, I’m down to about 50. I can’t believe how fast it went.

But plans have changed. I’ve decided to stay in the corporate suck a bit longer – another year, perhaps. Not because I’ve suddenly uncovered a secret burning passion for spreadsheets and useless meetings, but because we want to save money to ease our transition back to New York. Alex and I have been discussing the virtues of buying vs. renting, and we still haven’t come to any solid conclusions, though buying an apartment may be a good option. NY is a hard market, but a profitable one. There’s just that teensy weensy issue of saving up a 6-figure down payment. When I look at what our money can get us in NY vs., say, Denver – or most anywhere else in the country – my eyes start to cross and I wonder whether it makes sense to move back at all. But then I think about all of the people we spent time with on our vacation, and all of the things we did, and of course the Tea Lounge (where I shall while away my days writing books, drinking tea, and laughing about the woebegone corporate suck of yesteryore), and I realize there’s nowhere else I’d rather live.

Speaking of whiling away, I’ve been on a one-month break from my book, and I promised myself I’d work on it today – especially after encouraging my friend Mischief Management to get to work on her own novel over breakfast yesterday. Don’t we all have a bit of JK Rowling deep down inside?

Now that it’s already 3PM, and I’ve still got a bathroom to clean, I’d better get moving. I wonder if Libba or JK have to clean their own bathrooms. Hmmm…

Happy New Year, all. Good luck in 2007!