I had a nice, quiet weekend putting my house in order. My couch arrived a couple of weeks ago, so I could finally arrange the living room and start putting up some decorations. (The teetering towers of boxes in the office remain steadfastly packed. The tape holding them shut seems too strong for a mortal such as myself to pierce. Not that I've tried.)
Two wonderful friends donated their Saturday afternoon to indulging my obsessive-compulsive need to see each and every picture I own in every possible spot on every wall in every room. Their rewards will be great in heaven.
And Saturday evening I had a lovely dinner celebrating a friend's 50th birthday.
I spent Sunday putzing around in the living room and entry way (the entry way is the one space in my home which I now consider "finished", and in my humble opinion, it's pretty) while white, fluffy snowflakes floated gently past my window.
Then I had a cozy, comfy Sunday evening lying on my new couch, snuggled under the quilt my sister made me. While I watched TV, my mind lazily inventoried the things it saw in my peripheral vision: my little wooden statue from West Africa, my blue glass vase from IKEA, my overstuffed easy chair, my black and white photos of DC and New York, the soft glow from my North African lamp. All my favorite things from all over the world. And I realized that I had the contentment I feel when I'm in my favorite place in the universe.
Home. I haven't been here for over six months, and it's good to be back.
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1 comment:
So happy for you! And can't wait to see your pad.
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