Ch-ch-changes

I want to unpack.
I want to unpack so bad.
I love unpacking.

I love the feeling of taking familiar items, and giving them new, unfamiliar homes.
I have posters that have lived in Germany, California & Belgium, all on different walls, all with different neighbors.
I get to decide where they go next. I get to decide if they go up at all.

I neurotically can't wait to arrange my closet.
What will I fold?
Will I color code, arrange by sleeve length or by occasion?

I want to put my books on a shelf, next to the framed photos of Sarah and my sister.
The seashell with my name engraved, from that one girl's summer trip to the Philipines.
I really didn't like her, actually, but I found the so gesture impressively nice that I've kept it on display all these years.

I want to find homes for these items.

As well as two jars. One for flowers, and one for change.

I'd like to do all this, but I'm in a holding pattern.
Frances leaves Thursday night for the UK, & then I move in.
I move in, unpack, call Jonathan, call my Mom, use the internet to my heart's content.

I haven't had internet or a landline here.
It's been a funny feeling.
It completely warps my evening routine.
(which is probably a good thing, actually.)

I leave work, pass the tiny market on my way through the courtyard to my flat, picking up tomatoes, mozarella, whatever I'm low on, and then walk the 32 seconds past the market, to my door.
I tidy up, make sure my computer's charging, eat a yogurt.
Then I put my laptop into my bag, and walk the few streets over to Jardin C. Labouré, , where I can use the free wi-fi (which weirdly shuts down on MSN and Facebook). I like it there. I'd tried Champs de Mars a few times. But it's so big, and the tourists make me feel like I'm in some kind of theme park.
Also, I get asked to buy an eiffel tower key chain approximately once every six minutes.
Not cool.
So I go to Labouré. It's lovely there; so quiet, a real garden.

Then, either my computer starts to die, or the policeman signals the closing of the park.
I walk home, change, jumping jacks, downward dog, brush my teeth, swig of pelligrano, switch to reading light, read.
Asleep before midnight.

I feel so steril.

But that's not necessarily bad.
It's sort of refreshing.
Like mouth wash.