i can't find the words

Scooter is pretty much the hottest turtle I’ve ever owned.

So, upon arriving at work yesterday — a harrowing journey that involved a delicious smoothie, a seat next to the smoking lounge in Atlanta, kicking children in the airplane seat behind me, $66 in parking fees plus a $3 toll, some sort of muffler problem, a “detour” in Braintree and a lack of dinner — I saw a message from my boss saying that, unfortunately, he had been informed that the intern budget was empty; I’ll have to stop working after the last of the month.

There’s no way I’ll be able to go home the following weekend, or maybe even the one after that, but I can’t pay rent without an income forever. Any ideas for a Northeast blowout extravaganza, possibly my last for some time?

Daytona Beach is about as low-slung as a city can get, the urban-planning equivalent of the blue jeans worn by all the young female vacationers who aren’t cavorting on its vast stretch of sand. The only things rising higher than the countless palm trees are the hotels lining a narrow strip of land between the Halifax River and the Atlantic Ocean. It makes for good driving; all you can see are those palm fronds and a wide-open sky. Maybe that’s why the city allows cars on its beaches.

I stayed in one of those hotels, in a room on the top floor that faced the ocean. I left the balcony door open during the day so I could listen to the waves while I watched TV and read, but, wary of pelican attacks, I closed it when I went to sleep. Either way, the view was spectacular.

Daytona Beach had other things going for it as well, namely that it was home to two of my favorite eating establishments — and they were ACROSS THE STREET from each other.

But is that enough for me to take a job that’s only half what I want (assuming they make an offer)? I doubt it.

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

Hannah called me at about 3:30 p.m. Sunday to let me know she was getting on the T. I figured she’d get to Braintree about 4:10 and I’d be there 20 minutes later. Heck, I was making record time at first. The backup to get over the Sagamore Bridge was almost nonexistant, and I figured I could speed maybe just a little. But no, it couldn’t stay like that. Almost as soon as I had hung up after calling her to let her know I’d be another 20 minutes, I hit a traffic jam.

A traffic jam that lasted 18 miles. I didn’t get to the T station until well after 6 p.m.; by that point, Hannah’s wrist hurt because she’d been holding a book open for so long.

I was exhausted; she was exhausted and hungry. The night’s activities were limited to a cheese pizza, a trip to Trader Joe’s and, later, a viewing of “Super Size Me.”

But yesterday we made it all the way out to Provincetown. We started with a hike across the breakwater. Hannah only fell twice, which is pretty good for a first-timer. What did we do once we had made it across? Well, I chased some birds away from the beach, and then Hannah took her shoes off and explored.

Meanwhile, too chicken to get my feet wet, I walked along the edge of the water and looked at things. I even made a friend.

But the day’s highlight came much later, long after we’d left the bright lights and dress-wearing men of P’town. I’d purchased a bottle of pinot grigio, so Hannah and I drove to East Sandwich Beach to drink it. It was a little cold out, sure, but the waves were relaxing and Hannah was entertaining. I only wish I had more chances for that sort of thing.

And then today we woke up, got ice cream and played mini golf. Hannah was put in charge of scoring and adding.

Thanks to some golf ball heroics, I set a new world record!

OK, so that was the quasi-weekend in nutshell. Hannah left right after our gentlemen’s sporting contest, which is a shame because I wanted to go to the beach again. Or really just wanted to have someone to hang out with.