I’ve been home for exactly three weeks. The city already seems like a horrible, yet distant memory to me now. Life back home is…easier. Calmer. Infinitely better. Everything is closer, more accessible, more familiar and has the gentle aura of comfort that turns everything a fuzzy shade of contentment. Life is good.
In the last three weeks, I have
- Started a new job
- Joined a gym
- Gotten a new tattoo
- Had dinner in front of an open fire
- Finally purchased a replacement for my old and mostly dead laptop
- Almost finished the first half of a wedding dress commission (that I’ve been trying to work on since the start of the year!)
- Gotten reacquainted with the ghost that lives in dad’s house (I’ve missed my ghost)
Things are definitely looking up. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t a few…minor downsides to the move. Firstly is that I moved back in with my dad. My dad is not the problem, he’s one of my favourite people in the universe. The problem is the lack of space. I’m back in my old bedroom and without any cupboards or drawers, all my clothes presently live in piles on the floor, and in suitcases under the bed. Which is decidedly inconvenient and not ideal. And boy am I missing the days when I had an actual sewing room. Half of my sewing stuff is still in the house in the city, and the few things I do have here are squeezed into one tiny corner of dad’s dining room. Makes for quite the cramped creative environment. And then there is the fact that the return to my home town means the increased likelihood of running into a particular couple of people that were part of the reason I left in the first place. But, it’s all a small price to pay I guess, for a more positive mental state and regular days off!
Currently I am lying on the floor in front of the heater in my dad’s lounge room. It is one of my favourite places. I am warm and cozy, and texting my best friend, dinner is in the oven and everything is right in my little world right now.