filene's basement

i landed at logan airport today (in the lovely metropolis of boston, mass). i was supposed to meet one of the partners for drinks, but i called twice and ended up in voicemail. so i got to my lovely hotel and checked in. for some reason, i was doing well with my tipping. i tipped my minneapolis cabbie more than usual and the boston cabbie less than usual and was left with nothing for the guy who took my bags out of the cab. so when they were brought to my room, the guy got $5. which shocked him and me. at some point, it must all even out karmically, but i've got to get better about my business travel tipping. i digress.

so no message from mr. partner. and i am in need of pantyhose. not something i normally bust out. but tomorrow is a special day, requiring a business suit, skirt and all. and of course, i've put runs into all of my stockings because i am just not a "hose" kind of girl. i like my pants just fine thank you. so i run down the street and happen upon filene's basement. a treasure trove of holiday shopping. but in and out. i buy my pantyhose only to see that mr. partner has left me a voicemail. my phone didn't vibrate as planned.

i ran back to the hotel, hid my shopping bag in my room and mumbled some random excuse. he was fine. he was checking his crackberry. we had a drink and some apps. he headed off to his holiday party. i bowed out because of a proposal (which I actually finished on the plane, but he doesn't know that). and i am settling down to room service that includes new england clam chowder, caesar salad (with anchovies) and a sam adams.

guess what i forgot this time. comfortable pants. no sweats in the suitcase. will i ever get it right?