Home.

I'm too tired to blog in depth about my house right now.

I have cuts on my hands. My legs, knees, feet and ankles are sore. I dropped something yesterday, and instead of picking it up I just left it there. Bending down is painful.

My house is big. I bought too much furniture, so first room in the house is literally a junk room.

Nice first impression for my visitors!

I've had a steady stream of visitors over the past few days. The babies came and saw me. Friends and co-workers have stopped by with wine.

The only thing in my fridge at the moment is alcohol, which is kind of a wonderful problem to have.

I couldn't get the back screen door open the first day. I piled trash on the enclosed porch. When night came, the millers also came and claimed the big trash pile I had back there.

Oops.

I didn't have hot water last night. When I laid down and put ice packs on various parts of my body that hurt, I got so cold I became a popsicle.

My upstairs bedroom smells like cat pee. My dog was in that room all of three seconds before she peed in it.

If it smells like a bathroom, hey, why not?

There are things wrong with it and there are things right with it. I'm tired and sore, but as every empty box is tossed outside the house, I get a littler happier.

I'm home.