In an hour we leave for O’Hare for me to fly back to Atlanta. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave my family, I don’t want to leave Evanston, I don’t want to be in Atlanta any more. I’m there to tie up loose ends and to get myself out of there as soon as humanly possible. I’d rather be up here, riding my bike around town, walking my dog through the new neighborhood and getting to know this place. My incentives now are to bust my ass and to get myself done at work, get everything wrapped up and to get myself in a car heading north once again.