There’s no place like home

Last week I spent my very first night in my very own, very new place.

It was not the most resounding success, as nights go.

I flooded my laundry room (slightly). My laptop didn’t want to connect to the company network. I couldn’t find my white noise machine despite looking in what I was sure was EVERY BOX IN THE HOUSE. (Please don’t tell me about your app. I know; I have one too.) And I stubbed my toe so badly that it bled – a lot. Like, I probably needed a stitch or two, but at 1:30AM in a new town, that wasn’t going to happen. My bandages were still up at my apartment in NJ so after a bit of noodling and scooting myself around trying NOT to bleed all over the new carpeting, I finally fashioned something of paper towels and painter’s tape, and eventually fell exhausted into bed.

But in the morning, I was able to connect to the network, my toe had stopped bleeding, and I found my white noise machine (ridiculously close to where it should have been, really).

The new house is slowly becoming my own – my sister even festived it up with Christmas decorations (thank you, sweetheart, they look great) and she and my brother-in-law helped me get the curtains up and so many other little touches that help the place to feel more like home.

It WILL feel like home. In time.

It is getting there – but no, it doesn’t feel like home just yet. Though by my third night there, it was getting infinitesimally closer.

Meanwhile, I am living the other half of my life in my old apartment, which is now down just a handful of items to be moved or given away, and the flotsam of day to day life. It’s a minimalist existence, but it’s still familiar. My things, my space, my routines. I know that my friends here would happily take me in (might even be irked that I haven’t let them yet) and I love them for it. [OK: I love them anyway, truth be told. And I will let them take me in soon enough.]

But for the moment I find that even without all the creature comforts, the apartment is still comforting in its way. I will give it up, forever, in just a couple of weeks, but for now it is still my own familiar space.

With so much else in transition, that familiarity is a relief, even if the apartment doesn’t feel quite like home at present either.

All things in time…

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About aka gringita
Flotsam generator. Amateur photographer. Avid traveler. Christ follower.

One Response to There’s no place like home

  1. Renita .G. says:

    I can remember my first time in my house,if was a exciting feeling.I slept over my house the first night,just imagining when i place my furniture,what kind of paint in each room….amazing feeling!

    Liked by 1 person

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