It is cold as shit in here and I have a Calypso earworm in my head.  Daylight come and I wanna go home.  Like reggae, it’s impossible to be anything but happy when the music is blaring.  And blaring it is.  I want to go home — home where things are organized and orderly and sane.  I am home, but my home is anything but what I need it to be.  Still, I’m oddly cheerful.

Greek mythology says Calypso was a nymph who kept Odysseus on her island for seven years promising him immortality, but he preferred to go home instead.  I can understand that.  I want to go home too, but technically I am home.  Home is just not very homey right now.

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