“California?” Dana was staring at me as though I’d grown another head. “You’ve got to be kidding! Why California? You’d have no job, no home—what would you do when you got off the plane?”

I leaned back in my chair and began to count off the reasons. “Look, I spent all night thinking about it. Number one: I hate this weather. I stopped enjoying snow once I outgrew sledding. It’s nothing but a hassle, and it’s depressing. Two: nothing is tying me down here. Three: no man to worry about, no family to be with. And four: this job isn’t what I plan on doing with the rest of my life. I mean, come on, you’d leave too in a heartbeat if you had a better offer, right?”

Dana sighed and nodded, but she was far from convinced. Not that I blamed her. I was probably one of the most unadventurous, unexciting people ever born; packing up and moving across the country wasn’t very me. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” she finally confided. “You’ve had the week from hell, and anyone would tell you that making important decisions in the midst of an emotional crisis isn’t the wisest course of action. I mean, shouldn’t you wait till spring or something? Give yourself time to get over Dylan and look for a job and a place to live.”

“My lease is up in December; I’d never find a place to live for just three months! And I’ve got some contacts in Southern California that can help me with the details; its not like I’d be totally on my own.” I was exaggerating this last bit just slightly; I had a contact, but I hadn’t talked to him in years, and I had no guarantee he’d even be willing to help me. But at this point I was working just as hard at convincing myself as I was at convincing Dana, and I wasn’t about to examine every little statement I made. I was building a good case so far; I didn’t want to ruin it with reality.

“So what are you going to do, then? Hop off the plane, find this guy, and beg him to find you a job and a house?”