No Place like Home

So recently I moved into a cute new place. It did not used to be a cute place, in fact at one point it was really ghetto. There is still what appears to be a bullet hole in the front window to attest to that fact. And also maybe some of the neighbors are really scary – but the house itself is a sanctuary inside and it is conveniently located right downtown AND I can still cycle to work. It’s a cute little house with very many cute things – including stuff that I spent waaay too much money on at Pier 1, and also some art and various other items acquired from local artisans at the Farmer’s market (my second home). Now that I’m all settled in – and the bulbs are planted! – there’s nowhere I’d rather be than home. My cats running amok, my boyfriend sitting on the couch with a Newsweek or his laptop, fantastic experimental dishes cooking in the oven, and WOW – a washer and dryer IN THE HOUSE! No more laundry queue for me, suckas!

But no matter how much I’d die to be home, I always find myself forced to be elsewhere. Yes, it’s my job and that’s how I afford all the crap I buy – but it still sucks. Instead of relaxing at home, I find myself in airports and rental car lines, and hotel rooms that are always too cold and distastefully decorated. Always alone. Boo hoo, wha wha…

And so, I try to document my biz travels in pictures – taken at times while driving, sometimes at maybe unsafe speeds – but usually only in traffic jams.



Hi! It's me again! That girl who is taking a picture of this heavy traffic jam while the rest of the people are probably really annoyed and just want to get home.



Goodbye Atlanta. Have a nice day! See you next time.