I woke up to the most gorgeous, early fall morning in Aspen. The colors were magnificent; the green leaves had just started turning bright yellow and orange. The days were warm, nights cool. This morning was a particularly glorious morning because it was Saturday, which meant it was the day of the Farmer's Market! I strolled along three blocks of local produce and merchandise, looking for the perfect peach. I found it, handed the vendor $1 and bit through the soft, fuzzy flesh as the juice gushed out of its skin. As I savored my fruit, I made my way to a bakery vendor and purchased a gluten-free, pumpkin nut muffin and iced coffee-- the perfect breakfast!  As I shopped for a souvenir to bring Cool Guy, I enjoyed a vocal performance by an Amish choir. Oh, Aspen! 

A friend gave me a ride to the airport in her new, yellow jeep. We had a party of two with the top down, and the wind blowing through our hair. I arrived 30 minutes prior to my flight-- which is my usual protocol for this tiny airport. I had already checked in on-line, and had no bags to check. So, I wasn't worried about time. However, I was unable to access my boarding pass and no one was at the desk to assist me. I heard a representative call my name at the gate. But, security wouldn't let me through without the boarding pass-- which I couldn't get unless they let me through to speak to the representative at the gate. Frustrated, I began to freak out! Thank goodness, airport security was able to find a representative, who gave me a boarding pass just as the airplane doors were closing. Sweaty and disheveled, I was relieved to be on the plane-- which lost power, resulting in a significant delay.

30 minutes later, I watched the majestic mountains disappear from the window of the plane. I was not looking forward to the hustle and bustle of the city. On the plane, I sat next to a young, British chap who had just earned his PhD in Philosophy from Rutgers. Until this experience, I had adored the British accent. By the end of the flight, I found it quite annoying. As we approached LaGuardia Airport, I noticed the stark contrast of the landscape from that of the morning. I left a mountain eutopia for for a place where the streets resembled landfills. I had just landed and was adjusting to my new environment when I got the phone call:

The doorman of my building called to inform me that Crazy was there. Apparently, she hadn't moved anything in the 18 days that I was gone. I seriously think she was spying on me, and waited for the day of my return to come for her things-- just to annoy me. I am convinced that her purpose in life is to make me miserable. Anyway, my welcome "home" consisted of me, Cool Guy, and three police officers watching Crazy move her crap. 

Crazy's parents were also there, helping their lemon of a daughter. I felt badly for them. I bet that they are good people, who just want whats best for their children. Hopefully, Crazy will move back in with them and clean up her act. I have no idea what the future holds for Crazy...except that she will be back tomorrow for the last of her things. UGH! It never ends with this girl!