Moved to the suburbs of Chicago almost two weeks ago.

Not really sure if this was the best or worst decision of my life yet.

I donated my truck to charity before I left Georgia because it would have cost way too much to keep up with and as inspiration to make my life better. So far, I’ve had an interview with the local grocery store that went horribly. Being someone who has conducted interviews, I tend to make sure that I am, at the very least, friendly to the people I interview, even in the likely event that I am judging things like appearance and coherent sentence structure while in person with the interviewee. The lady performing my interview must have been trying to get me to tell her to fuck off, which isn’t a very easy thing to do without getting me drunk first.

In any great event, I’m settled into this new and exciting part of the country. This is the first time in my life I’ve been to a place not connected to the Atlantic Ocean. This is also the closest I believe I’ve ever lived in relation to Canada. I’m getting scared that they will try and turn me into a pinko commie or feed me some fries and gravy and force me to drink Moosehead beer.

That’s all I’ve got for the moment. The bed is calling my name and asking for a glass of water. Don’t wanna disappoint it.