Home is Where Your Bed Is

My list of things to do this morning, as usual, does not include blogging.  I am like the lame boyfriend you had in junior high who never called or did anything with you outside of school.  I promise this will change in a month or so.

A few scattered thoughts:

I have been learning a heck of a lot about painting, and how to stay up painting past my bed time.  Luckily I still go to work every day where I sit in a chair.

Despite the fact that I am supposed to be finding a good casserole recipe that makes like 12 servings so I only have to cook once this week, I am blogging.  This will most likely make me delay getting to the recycling center, the grocery store, the paint store, work (I forgot a house plan there) and, of course Home Depot.  And that is just what I need to do before I start working.  Today, painting.  Again.  Tomorrow, carpet removal.  Again.  Later in the week after Lowes delivery (don't tell Home Depot), the kitchen floor.  Random times in between, sleeping and eating.  I am not sure but I may be losing weight due to being too exhausted to eat when I get home and having no food at the house yet.  I will let you know when I have time to get on a scale.

I am getting to the point where I have to really think about whether something can safely be packed or if we might need it before the 30th.  I thought packing the cinnamon sticks and celery seeds would be acceptable.  These are spices I have likely used once in my entire time at this apartment, probably on the day they were purchased.  But wouldn't you know I got Adam a coffee and spice grinder for Christmas and he wanted to try a cinnamon coffee?  And this morning, I prepped some pork chops for consumption between paint jobs, and the recipe called for celery seeds.  Sort of makes me second guess my decision to take my dresses and summery shoes over today.  Yeah, there's snow on the ground, but what if there's a beach party I need to attend within the next three weeks??

I am amazed that I can't find stuff to pack because I am afraid I will need it, yet my apartment is still full.  I would say we have like half our stuff at the house and it is all in one tiny room.  It looks like nothing.  Yet in the apartment, the other half is still scattered about in drawers and closets, and though there are some empty shelves, it looks like we haven't done much at all.

I drove home the other night at about 12:30am after work, a community meeting, and painting.  This is apparently when deer come out to play, and I saw about 20 of them on my way home.  At one point, a small pack of them crossed one at a time in front of my car.  I didn't have to stop for the first one, but the second and third waited until I was about 20 feet from them before deciding to go for it.  The fourth one stayed off to the side, frozen like...well, you know.

I think it was that day that I realized: my heart is in the house right now, but my bed is in the apartment.  Home is where your bed is.