Over Half Way Home

There may be a word for it.  It may even be one of the many new mental illnesses they've created, or signs of domestic terrorism, like disagreeing with the police state buy body government.  It seems I am at home everywhere, and nowhere.  Nowhere is really home, but at the same time many places are.

I don't care.  It has little to do with anything.  I made it to Dallas on time and without problem.  The cool thing is that I took the high road through Louisiana.  Far better than I-10 (thee 10 in California speak).  Not only that but I made it into Texas before stopping for the night.  Rightly or wrongly I feel better in Texas than Louisiana.
To a point.

Now I am in no hurry to get home, part of the time.  This was an unusual trip and when I get home I have to figure out how to make more money, keep an eye out for cheap flights to S.Florida, while somehow managing to manipulate someone special through subliminal assault.  Otherwise why worry with flying back?

Gotta go.  I'm in cousin land. Off for Mexican food.