Arriving Home

I just had the strangest sensation of arriving home. I have been pottering around the house, sorting through letters and bills and cards, listening to the rain and drinking tea - and I had the feeling that I had finally unwound and arrived.

It was as though each weekend I have been struggling to finish unpacking.. pay bills.. read enough.. write enough... buy nice food, catch up with family etc. etc. like I was only just keeping my (our) heads above water. Almost suddenly everything feels peaceful and complete. I cant remember the last time I lived in the same house for more than 3 or six months, where I wasn't always trying to explain to institutions that I don't know what address they would have for me (mums? dads? Ngukurr? Armidale? New Mexico? Santa Barbara?) and I don't know how they can contact my last real estate agent...

Sigh

Some contributions to this feeling include: finding somewhere to buy bulk delicious honey AND having clean washed dry jars to put it in - to having a fridge big enough to hold lots of veggies - of having fresh cut flowers on the table - finding some incense I like - organising all my music and a way to listen to it - clearing up my computer desktop - the wedding being over - the rain - making my lunch for uni everyday and having everything I need in the kitchen - joining the local library - having the address where I really live on my license - of feeling like I am taking good care of myself - that I have time to sit and talk with friends on the phone or otherwise - of feeling like we have some really good friends in Armidale - getting a massage - playing team sports regularly. And certainly not least, having an office of my own where, for once, I sat for 6 hours straight and worked, and felt like I wrote something substantial and well researched and interesting.

I feel like I am finally at rest and ready for the next six months (finishing my PhD).

Yeah!