The new apartment feels like home. There are more right angles. The ceilings are high, the floors feel sturdy, there are multiple rooms (and an office!) and there is a door on the bedroom. In fact, on our first night in the apartment, Kevin asked if I liked to sleep with the door open or the door closed. We’ve been living together for a year, and so the basic nature of the question, plus my extreme exhaustion from moving, sent me into hysterical laughter. I haven’t had to ponder this question since I lived alone in ’05. And I don’t remember what I did then.
We kept the door open the first night and closed it the second. I think I like the door closed.
Plus there’s a kitchen that looks out onto our back porch. Last night I brought the floor lamp into the kitchen, the one that throws gold light onto everything, put on some good folk music (Jay Farrar) and cooked rotini with pasta sauce and tons of parmesan cheese. I haven’t been able to cook anything in about a month, because we were either traveling or packing for most of August. I just about died of bliss.