Nesting.

It has been eight days since my closing, and my house is finally starting to feel like home. A heat wave has choked the city the last couple of days, but I embrace the humidity. I wake up and listen to the birds sing, walk slowly through my garden while Mishka runs around with his rawhide, and go about my errands which are now becoming less about renovation and more about upkeep. 

This morning I painted the guest bedroom, which was a vicious shade of pink (someone’s little girl was growing up with terrible taste).  I transformed it into a soft lavender and painted the ugly taupe trim white. Afterward, I did laundry, and strung up a makeshift drying line on which to hang my guest towels and painting clothes and cotton dresses. At lunch I cooked myself a delicious brown rice pasta dish on my brand new stove, and may have had one too many glasses of Chardonnay. Fortunately, I have time to sleep it off — work isn’t until 5:30 and I now live ten minutes away, so commuting is effortless. 

There are orchids in the kitchen bay window now — one blooming, one dormant. An Asian Buddha sits serenely between them. I like to sit at my kitchen table at breakfast and look at the Buddha and the flowers while I quietly contemplate the day ahead. I won’t have internet until June 12th so my mornings are technology-free, with the exception of my phone. I would like to think I can keep it that way once I do have a steady connection up and running. 

I’m not lonely. It’s such a relief and a joy.