In which everything is hard and nothing makes sense

There has been like, a physical pain in my chest since I arrived in SF. The full weight of my situation crashed in around me the moment I saw Bobby's place. This is not my home, I am sleeping on some couch in some city I know nothing about. I haven't even used the public transit system yet. What? I'm driving my car to an interview tomorrow? Really? When I could get on the bus or BART or something? Who am I? What am I doing? Everything seems foreign.

I miss D.C. I miss my boys. I miss knowing where home is. I'm sitting here talking to Topher online about how I wish we could just sit on the couch and split a six-pack and watch The Office... or Criminal Minds. That's all I want right now. Hotch, Spencer Reid, Garcia, Topher, and a make-your-own six pack from Bloom.

I knew this would happen. I was very prepared for the homesickness and the culture shock and constant stress/worry. Doesn't make it any less hard.