I’ve been working at this place since October.
I’ve become obsessed with setting up my place. Which means that Apartment Therapy has become my porn.
We’ve been doing a narrative sprint at work for the last week… two weeks? Time blurs. Which has landed me with both a tremendous sense of a relief and a sore throat.
I’m trying to adapt to my new place and get past the sense of isolation I have; which is only natural, moving from an intentional community where people dropped by in the evenings every day. Fortunately, I do know some folks in the area. Unfortunately, planning ahead has not been my strong suit lately. And I’m in nesting mode, which means I want to stay home rather than going out.
A bunch of folks (from completely different parts of my life) have all suddenly started calling me Di. And I’m okay with it. I may even like it, but don’t quote me on that. (As my brother-by-another-mother, Eric Hindes, can attest, I was very strongly opposed to nicknames as a kid).
Jay is dealing with cancer. Again. Which is not my story, but is something I think about every day. (Fair warning, the video on the other end of that link is emotionally devastating. But well worth watching.)
Here. On a cheerful-ish note, this is a picture from a coffee table set I’ve been refinishing (I got it from your mom nearly a decade ago, Eric!)
The table on the left hasn’t been touched, while the table on the right I refinished (oil finish, no stain). Before, they looked pretty much identical. I believe they’re teak, though they might be walnut.