Living Single

This morning I woke to sunbeams shining on my face, caressing my cheek with their warmth as birds sang outside my window. I stretched luxuriously, grabbed Kevin's leash, headed down my new stairs and walked with my fuzzball for 40 minutes around a lake. There was a blue heron in flight as we turned the corner. Squirrels chattered at us as we passed. Neighbors said hello as we wandered. He pooped on our next door neighbors patio.  We arrived home, I got ready and arrived at work 10 minutes early. I made coffee for everyone. Then the day got weird, as our catering director got in a shouting match with a nasty member in the hallway outside my door. I gave her brownies. She also asked the mother of the bride at a wedding this past weekend if her daughter was pregnant.  She wasn't.  But I digress.

I'm not sure how, but my perspective has changed in the last few days.  The weekend was filled with stress, disappointment, and delight. Seeing my home come together...seeing Kevin get comfortable with an extra spring in his step from running up and down stairs...feeling my ass muscles hurting as I run up and down the stairs...it's wonderful.  I have cable. I have internet.  I have wireless. I have space.  I have the ability to sit around in my underpants.  I cooked the last two nights.  Not in the underpants. Grease spatter hurts.

I can't figure out how to turn this photo.

I've lived in apartments before.  But never one with this much character and space and potential. I have an office. A little nook where earlier I ordered Kevin's rabies tag while staring at Bruce Campbell's signature on an Army of Darkness poster I've owned since college.  It never seemed to fit. I never seemed to fit.

But I fit here, for now. I started paring down my life before this move, and I feel that the good times are about to start. I've gotten rid of the baggage. I bought new pillows today. PILLOWS. AND A WINE RACK. AND A BASKET. And I've never been more excited about a purchase. This place is me. The new me.  The happy me. The me that loves floral pillows that complement my poppy field poster hanging over my head. The me that loves wine.  And the me that is starting to love me, a little bit more every day.