I must be old. I can not describe how… necessary it feels to be home now, after being away for two nights. My space, my things, my clean, my joys and comforts… I haven’t even gotten homes for all of my stuff yet – more than half of it still seems to be sitting in odd spots around the room, or just totally out somewhere. (Actually, it’s more like a third of it doesn’t have an official spot in which it can live yet, and a big part of that is the oil spill I’m still working on cleaning up behind my bed’s head, in front of and on a main storage shelf for my room. Once that finally stops soaking up into the fresh spreads of baking soda that I keep laying and vacuuming up, we should be in really good condition with finishing the tidying for everything.) And yet this place feels right. This is the place where I sleep, surrounded by all of this stuff, and in this bed with these sheets and blankets and all, and these fairy lights and twinkle lights on the walls.
And I am powerfully grateful for it all.
P.S. Not to mention, I go to bed already between 8:30pm and 9pm, and wake up between 4am and 6am (if I “sleep in”)…
^I swear, I almost put 2022… ::facepalm