This week, Plugged In is rubbing its eyes and yowling at the lights like a newborn.

Friends, enemies... it's over. The holiday escapades that you've been following with bated breath have finally come to a close.

This means a few things. First off, a practical matter. This newsletter is going to be a cop-out because I only got back to work today and I think I've forgotten how to write.

Secondly, oh god.

And thirdly? Well, I'm going to squeeze every last little bit of content out of my trip to make my life easier.

Really, when you think about it, they're all the same point.

While the excitement and spontaneity and debauchery of my jaunt has ended, there is a positive of being back in my apartment again. No, not friends or familiarity... I'm talking about my stuff.

Across my last few newsletters, I talked about the decisions I made in what to bring along with me on my trip. No longer will I have to choose, pals. It's my house. And it's brimming with cool things.

There are the chairs grooved to my ass-shape, my finely cultivated record collection, and no one to tell me to put clothes on. 

Home isn't just where my heart is; it's where all my shit is too.