Musings in a New Apartment

Last night, as I tried to make out a shopping list, I could not remember what kinds of food my husband and I normally eat. Ian took the lead and began scribbling down a few things. Fruit, I said. We've been eating a lot of strawberries. But I had to ask him what he wanted for dinner to remember some of our standby recipes. Sweet and Sour Chicken, he said. He wrote a few things down.

We've moved into our new apartment, in the sense that all our boxes are inside. The kitchen is fairly well unpacked, as is the guest bedroom. Every once in a while, as I'm organizing a cabinet or applying for a job online, the cat will let out a mournful meow from down the hall as if she's lost or forgotten where she is, and I call to her. At the sound of her name she comes trotting, and stays near my feet for a while.

There is a walking path that runs most of the way between our apartment and Ian's office, just over a mile away. I've gotten up early to walk with him these past two days despite my tendency to laze in bed: I'm trying to develop better habits. Because that's what a new home promises, isn't it? A new start, a new life. In a couple months, the walking path will be lined with blackberries; right now it's lined with slugs. There's a bunny that lives near the dumpster at the path's end. I've named him (or her) Fred.

Today, I'm going to organize my office. I've never had an office before. I've always thought that with an office, I could do amazing things, write ten times as much and twice as well, concentrate my thoughts to the ballpoint of my pen. But first I need to put the legs back on my desk.