It's not home until you light a candle and have a hot cup of something...

I am continuing to settle in, getting used to the vastness of the place. I am a little lonely, but only because the apartment feels strange yet. You reach a point with the place you live at which the space itself is you, impossible to separate out--you have so permeated the air with yourself that the rooms and you are indistinguishable. Being around my things helps. I recognize that they are my possessions, but they also seem foreign.

In any case, I know that I've been talking about the move incessantly. I promise, this is not a foray into a series of maudlin posts about how disenfranchised I feel. I'm just trying to get my bearings.

In addition to feeling all emotionally turned around, my bank account is in utter distress because the moving company charged me, errantly, three times. Obviously, this is a mistake, and one that I trust will be rectified... but in the meantime, it has crippled me. At the moment, I am categorically regretting the choice to use movers. In truth, I was regretting it on Saturday. It was no less stressful, really, than begging people to do it. It was just a different kind of stress.

I'm looking forward to the morning when I can call and speak to a representative who can start the process of undoing this snarl.