And so, I’m sitting in the office. My desk is somewhere between Isla’s crib and one of the bookcases. I kinda like that. Symbolism. Or something.
We moved up here with more than 17 boxes of books. Yesterday was spent emptying them into the bookcases.
In the old flat, I knew them so well, I almost didn’t see them. Favourites and doorstops, old schoolbooks I can’t part with.
Those have been moved to the loft.
What I’m looking at now are books I’ve dipped into and others I haven’t started. There’s also some notebooks, a rolled up penguin poster, our wedding invitation, and one of those colouring books for adults. Which I haven’t started.
Yet. And for someone who has essentially moved back in with her parents, with her husband and their one year-old, in the same week as PMS, I’m surprised I haven’t had to break out my new coloured pencils. Y’know, to etch bad words on my desk. I mean, to colour.
In other news, we have local library cards. Like I have any business reading a book that isn’t in this house already. But we have library cards. Because I don’t feel at home anywhere until I can go somewhere and get free books with clear covers on their covers.
We left the building with a book on stargazing, because we can do that now. Also two books for me and one for Isla. She got a sticker, too. I might have put the sticker on her forehead as we walked to the car. Because that’s the kind of mother I am.
Isla seems to like me. This morning, she head-butted me. That’s how she shows appreciation. Next week, we’ll work on blowing kisses.
And I’ll be working on sitting at this desk, looking out that window, writing more words. And perhaps colouring.
And so, the bookcases are up and my desk has my computer on it. And I have a library card. After a move, what finally makes you feel at home?
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