Charles Jensen | Writer

It’s time.

I’ve carefully selected my blazers and shirts, matched the ties, dusted off the Kenneth Coles, packed the cufflinks.

I’ve recharged the camera battery, loaded up the iPod with new albums.

I’ve woken up the boyfriend and told him to get his stuff together.

I picked a book for the flight (Persepolis) and packed my homework for the week, charged my laptop battery.

I’ve done the dishes, taken out the trash, turned off the heat, closed the blinds, made the bed in case my home is robbed and I need to show the thieves I have a modicum of self-respect while hoping they don’t notice the dirty underwear on the floor that I am too lazy to pick up today.

I am going to New York.

See you there. Or not.