Home Again

Our books are loaded into the shelves.

The plumbing is a mess.

We've washed the dishes and learned that the dryer does not get warm, so clothesline it is.

We've installed our computers into their semi-permanent homes and funneled the potful of deep-frying oil into a disposable container. We've removed the mothballs and air-stinkers. We're trying to figure out what is emitting the smell in the refrigerator.

I've tripped over the weird threshold into the kitchen twice and now have a home-shaped bruise.

We've eaten home-cooked meals at our real dining room table and listened to the Guy Garvey show on the sofa in our real living room. We've stood and looked out at late night London with our heads peeking out of the study's skylights.

We have yet to spend much time in the garden as it's been raining, but I did move a potted plant about 4 feet to open up the space a bit. (I then proceeded to dart back inside to dry off. Was it necessary to move the plant? Jeez yes.)

I've organized the toolbox and put the cds into alphabetical order. I've folded all the towels and sheets and put them in neat stacks according to what they are. I've claimed a desk and tidied the spice rack. I'm going to clean the grease off the stove vent soon and mop the kitchen. I cleaned the U-bend from the bathroom sink and Dad of Boy troubleshot the problems with the shower (i.e. it don't work, get a plumber.) In short, I'm working to make the space into something that functions with the inclinations of my brain.

I'm going to the doctor on Thursday to see about my face, which is a red-and-beige model of the night sky. Oh look, Mars is in retrograde.