I've been in a weird headspace lately.

Work, sleep, work, sleep. Et cetera. Rinse, repeat if necessary.

This has been my routine since I moved out of New Orleans nearly two weeks ago and moved back in with my parents until I'm financially stable. Let me just say, if you're considering it, moving back in with one's parents does not do a whole lot of good for the ego. Generally, it brings feelings of weakness, inadequacy, and helplessness. As a result, I've been ending my workdays with 1mg of Klonopin, 1mg of melatonin, and a 12oz bottle of Smirnoff Ice Triple Black. Such a combination usually renders me asleep within an hour, and has the added bonus of making you not care where you are or the particular circumstances of your surroundings when you're awake, before it knocks you out. When you move in with your parents, these things are good to have around for just such an occasion.

I've been here only two weeks, but I've already got my new driver's license, new license plate and registration for my car, as well as auto insurance. I managed to get all of them for a pittance; for the same items in New Orleans I would've paid approximately $3,000.00 (USD) more. The dot on the exclaimation point here is that during the entire three years I lived in New Orleans, I was driving on an expired New Jersey license plate (which thankfully had no tags), expired NJ registration, no insurance, and an outdated NJ vehicle inspection tag. (I couldn't afford any of them.) I didn't get pulled over or even followed by a police car for more than a few blocks the entire time I lived there. I'm an impatient, heavy-footed driver, but I become the proverbial driver's education teacher when I see or sense a police car nearby. It's kept me out of trouble.

In any case, I'll be in Atlanta this weekend, surrounded by noders and probably drunk for the first time in a great while.

Meanwhile, back in New Orleans, Mardi Gras is kicking into full throttle this coming week, which makes me doubleplus glad I'm not there right now, even though I miss the place. Oddly, New Orleans feels like home, despite all the bad times I had there. That's kind of a disturbing feeling, because it feels like I don't have a home, now. I might end up moving back there late this summer if my boss was serious about raising my pay by about 35% and paying for my relocation back to Sin City.

So, with that, I think I'll finish my bottle of Ice and hit the sack. Assuming I'm not knocked out all day again, I've got to get up a bit early to prepare for the drive to Atlanta. See you there, Shecky.