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something about this place

i wasn’t really done talking about the transition to the new house. there’s so much more about it that i want to remember.

like how i hate sanding and painting and tiling and never want to do any of it again. like how the fastest way to get from the old house to the new house was across a big field and we wore down our own path from ferrying back and forth so many times.

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even when we got all moved in, there wasn’t the huge sign of relief like i’d expected. taking a shower was an arduous task—digging through boxes to find a shower curtain, pilfering a shower curtain rod from my mom’s bathroom, peeling away blue painter’s tape from the shower itself.

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my bedroom was especially exciting with tools scattered all over the cement floor and my toothbrush resting on a ladder that temporarily served as a nightstand.

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in some ways, having everything all boxed up and stowed away made me a minimalist—my thought process was more along the lines of “how can i do without that” rather than “where on earth did that box go”. i don’t know how hoarders do it. it was impossible to get anything out of our garage. i tried to find a cooler one afternoon and i had to go into spiderman mode—climbing over things and holding on to the tracks of the garage door {all while the CFO of my company was standing there...good times}. i appreciate open space so much more now.

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and then there was one night where we’d taken a break from our unpacking to eat pizza and watch a movie. we lugged our mismatched, haphazard furniture in a jagged half circle around the tv and cozied up. and suddenly it felt like home. there was that intangible feeling that can’t be procured or replicated. where a place feels safe and happy and peaceful, a true refuge from every place else. and that is our home.

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[title from you and i by lady gaga]

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