It’s strange. I woke up this morning a little lost. All ceilings look the same, I suppose, but on the wall was a shade of gray-green that, for a moment, made me think of olives. I like olives. Welcome to my new house. Like I said, it’s strange.
Steve and I were busy packing, moving, and unpacking the last few days. Our lives in neat little boxes and 18 Hefty 33-gallon trash bags. There was a place for everything at our old apartment. How, at our new house, I can’t seem to find a place to put my woven earthy floor mat/rug. I keep arranging and rearranging. And I haven’t even been to the downstairs yet.
It’s been cold, too. It’s downright sweater weather in middle June. As if this little town was trying to send in the not-so-welcome committee. And it’s working. I wake up, and I am comforted that all ceilings look the same. But the gray-green rain and chill tells me I’m not quite home just yet.
