Driving home from work today I saw a car with Massachusetts plates. It was an old station wagon with a Yarmouth dealership logo stuck on the back and a Martha's Vineyard sticker (you know those horrible white ovals with the black initials that used to mean your car was registered in this or that European country but now they mean you live in/vacation in/aspire to be a homeowner in some town or island) on the rear window. And a bike on the rack. I'm so very homesick that I seriously contemplated following this car until it stopped wherever, just so I could strike up a "where ya from?" conversation with the driver. I was calculating how far I could go before I had to turn around and head back home when I came to my senses and pulled off at the next exit to go shopping, like I was supposed to. Hamish needs dog food WAY more than I need to talk to someone in a car from Massachusetts.
In other news, I'm pregnant.