The new year has begun, and I’m not happy. You’d think I would be: I just spent two weeks in Australia for a long-time friend’s 30th birthday, and it was absolutely wonderful. I held my favorite animal in the world — wombat, wombat, wombat!—met lots of other delightful creatures — kangaroos! (I sang one to sleep), a koala! (his name was Humphrey; please don’t touch his head), a weirdo cassowary (it hummed or thrummed or ummed at us; hard to tell) — and experienced places and a culture that were brand new to me and fascinating. I also got to make new memories with someone I’ve known for more than 20 years, someone I actually, truly, not-just-being-polite-here, genuinely respect and enjoy being around.
But all good things must come to an end, and here I am back in NYC, at a job I’m good at (hallelujah for that after years of insecurity), but not