Everything old is new again

As I type this, I sit.... alone in my room. It's 11:21 pm. I'm still up. Cool.

Most Sunday nights I would have had to pack for a week away, go to bed early, set my alarm for 4:30am, get a shower, load my car and drive 4 hours to Miami to go to work.

And I would work a full day. A full, usually late-night day. A frustrating, late-night day.

I'm thankful to report that I don't have to do that anymore.

I start my new and hopefully better gig tomorrow. And it's here, near my house. So if I work a frustrating late-night day at this gig, at least I have the opportunity to come home.

Home.

There's a lot I want to do. I want to finish the short story I was working on. I want to draw at my art board again. I want to catch up with some folk that have veered away. I want to drink beer at Natalie's. I want to be home. And I am.

Home.

New job.

New car.

New start.

New perspective - I have perspective I have never had now. It's good. Makes me a better guy.

AND... I beat the shit out of that alarm clock with a hammer.

It may not have been the most mature thing to have done.

And it probably doesn't make me a better guy.

But the symbolism of the end of that damn noise, combined with the satisfactory minor violence around it sure felt great.

Thank you, Great Maker, for those Miami days. Thank you, Great Maker, for these days at home.

Those Miami days are gone.

Gone-didddly-on.

Leebo's home.

Game on, neighborinos.