I'm sitting at my grandfather's old desk in one of the spare bedrooms. My parents have been talking for years about turning this into an office for my father, but so far it just hasn't happened. The desk is here, though, piled with my father's usual astonishing stacks of papers and magazines and print-outs and so on. There's a lamp and two phone lines. There's a big old desk chair. And tonight, there's me, and my parents' Dell laptop with balky, stupid Windoze ME. Can you tell I'm missing my Macs?

I got to the airport two hours early, as directed, and breezed through empty lines to check in and go through security. The airport was so quiet. Logan is usually chaos. The security was very visible: lots of cops and soldiers. By the time they finished searching my carry-on bag, I figured the safest place to be was on that plane, and I slept like a baby as soon as my seatbelt was buckled.

We took the Rock Creek Parkway home from National Airport and I remembered all over again why I love DC. It's so beautiful here. But DC residents pay for that lush beauty with hellish, steam-bath summers. And no matter how casually my father tries to entice me into moving back to DC, I think I'll stay in Boston. But it's nice to be back.

Tomorrow's plan: Tony and I take on the world, or at least the city, from thrift shopping to movie watching, while dodging anthrax spores. Stay tuned for zany antics and photos to prove 'em.