Aaaaaaand my clothes still aren’t unpacked. I left my suitcase on my bed and everything. Open. So I wouldn’t forget. Yea, so I wouldn’t even be able to go to bed until my clothes were safely stowed away in my dresser. Nope. Nothing but my collection of pants got put away. 

But I built a shelf. 

Well, I put together a kit. And I didn’t do it alone, either–my most organized sister made sure the top of the shelf ended up on top. Hopefully the apartment has passed her inspection. It’s certainly a work in progress, what with all the bags and boxes lying around everywhere.

But I have my pillow now (thanks, Mom) and coffee. And all the important mugs. 

And I even got to host someone. A most important someone. My sister (spiritually adopted, of course) and I have been thick as thieves since sixth grade. In high school we’d hoped to get an apartment together after college, but God has chosen to place us in different geographical locations. Our hearts will always be together, even if the rest of us can’t be. 

She has an apartment by a river. Mine is by a pond. Have fun with that, Whovians. 

If there’s one thing that’s been made clear from this moving process, it’s that I can’t do anything alone. I’m so grateful for all the people who have helped me move furniture and boxes and bags and bags of books. I couldn’t have done it without any of them. Independence really isn’t that independent at all. it’s just shifting your dependence to include more people the older you get. It’s a wonderful thing, having a family as well as a family of friends. 

ALl that to say, I’m not settled yet. But I’m getting there. A day at a time. 


Ramble back at me...

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