I've been griping for two weeks about having too much to do. I think I've gone to New York after work almost every night for some reason. Tonight, I had to go to a U. Penn reading in SoHo, then head uptown to meet with some other writers from the 'chick lit' listserve in the Village. And as I was running from one place to the other, I thought, isn't it wonderful that I'm only a $1.50 PATH ride away from all of these events? Some day, when I look back on this time, maybe I'll see it not as a hectic period, but as a lot of fun.