I'm not buried under boxes.
I've not collapsed in exhaustion.
I didn't forgo grocery shopping to pay for my commute.
In fact, I've not felt this at home in years.
Honestly, since the house I shared with my mom.
And tonight, a week anniversary to be celebrated, I won't be sleeping in the place - I've had this weekend planned as an out of town vacation for months, and it just so happens that it is the capstone to the bliss that my world is coming together.
I love my job.
I love my commute to and from my job.
I love waking up.
I love coming home, and doing whatever I want whenever I want, my only worry being that if I fall in a reaction to spinning in the kitchen like a top, the neighbors will call for help and everyone will know I spend all my time in the place completely nude.
I really enjoyed making a salad on a clean counter, with my silverware, and putting it into a clean bowl - all without any effort beyond getting the goods out of the fridge.
I appreciated that I could lick the top off my Magic Brownies Ben and Jerry's pint until I couldn't reach the ice cream anymore, realizing I was sitting in the middle of the living room floor watching a movie with a spoon in one hand and the pint in the other - I put the spoon right back where it came from and was impressed at how much I could lick 'off the top'.
I'm doing really really really well, just not online at home is all - iPhone might be the fix to that, but the way the Jersey Boy downstairs is obviously smitten with me, I'm wondering how many reminders it'll take for him to scrounge up the password to his wireless network...
and now, to do the rest of the Friday Only reports, hit send on these emails I didn't want to send til the very end of the day, and get packing for my trip to see someone I knew before I moved to the east coast for the first time since I moved to the east coast. I'm preparing for a hungover weekend, starting about 9am tomorrow morning - details to come, if I can remember any.