So I am not yet in Boston, but, for all intents and purposes, I am no longer a resident of the greater Broad Ripple or Indianapolis area.

I've moved back to my parents' house in northern Kentucky for the time being. I spend my days packing, bubble-wrapping wine glasses, deciding whether I want to keep my childhood dollies or not, desperately sneaking stress-induced cigarettes here and there when my parents are out or asleep (a habit they know of though never speak of, nor would I ever dream of partaking in their presence).

It is vastly humbling to pack up one's life into boxes from liquor stores - there's a nice tip - if you're ever moving: find your boxes at liquor stores. I've got all of my books neatly packed into over half a dozen cardboard Stoli and Smirnoff and Penfold's boxes. I really wanted to find some of those plastic bags you see on infomercials - the kind that you hook up to your vacuum, that sucks out all the air and turns bulky blankets and clothing items into a neat little sliver of what it once was. But, man, those bags are expensive and I am not a girl with infinite funds to spend on plastic vacuum baggies.

My best friend and I keep texting each other back and forth. I've mentioned her a thousand times here - Ashley, your former Associate Editor, the guitar player of the Peggy Sues, my heterosexual life partner in crime. I've been gone for about a week and it already seems longer, like I've been away on some island for months. Because, here at "home," I do not have what I have with you, Broad Ripple. Ashley texted me earlier today, asking, "So what's it like not having a job to go to!" I assume the "!" denotes excitement in tone rather than the asking of a question. Well, I replied to her, I'm bored. I've watched a lot of bad television and gotten a lot of packing done and I have no one to hang out with really and I can tell I'm getting on my parents' nerves because we've already had a "house rules" talk and I sit around and read in the coffeehouse I hung out in when I was 16 and it makes me feel old. And I know I'm not old.

And that's all I do.

I tell you, friends, they (you know, the grand "they" we always speak of) weren't kidding when they said moving was one of the most stressful events in a person's life. My sleeping problems have gotten progressively worse. Last night was kind of a triumph, though - I was finally able to pass out around 2:30 in the morning, sleeping straight through to 7:30 without waking up once.

Okay, y'know what? Not being able to sleep really sucks. Like, a lot.

And my father, in an attempt for me to get a decent night's slumber, offered this little white pill to me, the name of which I am completely forgetting because it's really long and starts with an "m." No, it's not anything prescribed, but apparently it's some kind of hormone your brain naturally releases to make you feel tired - that's what's in this little pill. My dad's a pilot who regularly flies from Louisville to Honolulu to Sydney to somewhere in India and back in a week, so he's used to needing some help adjusting to time zones and normal sleep patterns. He always has these "m" pills on hand, I guess.

But I think my sleeping problems are stemming from something larger than anything the "m" pill can solve. I miss my friends, man, and I really miss my silly boyfriend. I miss the Alley Cat, smarmy broad that the dive bar is. I miss Ken and Susan at the Bagel Deli - I never got a chance to say goodbye. I miss driving north on College and passing Yat's and Northside News and Sam's Gyros. I never got a chance to go into the new Fresh Market. I miss Wednesday and Thursday nights at the Casba. This column's called "Beats from a Broad Ripple Rat" - but this rat's jumped ship and is missing everything.

It feels dumb to complain. Really, it does. And it feels even more dumb to be stressed out so much that my parents offer me "m" pills so that I can fall asleep. I guess what you guys can all draw from this is to know that you're all so awesome, that Broad Ripple is (like, whoa!) so cool and hip and rad, that I am losing some serious shut-eye from being away from you and it. Feel proud about that. I don't think many communities can top it.