There's no Place Like Home

Yesterday we started moving to our new apartment. We've had thirty days to get used to this idea and thirty days to pack and prepare. I know the psychological ramifications of moving, but still, I am struggling with some feelings of disorientation and sadness. I liked my old apartment. Aside from family homes it was the longest I've lived in one place, and it was my first real adult home. Now the viscera of "home" is scattered in boxes throughout a new, foreign and sterile smelling space, while the framework is still in the old hollowed out space we used to live in. It's strange to live half-way between a shell full of memories and a space void of them. It's both good and bad, exciting and sad.

There really is no place like home.

Switching gears a bit...today I had to get ready at the gym because my new place doesn't have a shower curtain yet. Of course, I could have gotten ready at the old place, but somehow packing clothes to take there and shower felt like going backwards. And going to the gym to shower at least forces me to workout. I was about halfway through my half-ass workout when I realized I forgot to pack work-appropriate shoes. I had two options: either try to go back home and get a pair OR try to find a store that sells shoes open before 9am. Due to the fact that I did not have enough time to go home, I had to go with the latter. Which meant only one option: venture into a Wal-Mart. And so today, my feet are clad in $13, pleather, pointy-toed Wal-Mart slides. WHY isn't Target open before 9am????