28 days

It's been 28 days since I moved my stuff from the 'rentals place to the condo. Its' weird, because now neither of these are "home" to me. Don't get me wrong - I still walk into my mother's kitchen whenever I like and there's always a plate of food for me. And I've been sleeping in my very own princess bed for a while now, after breaking it in good and proper. But I still never say "I'm going home" ...

So, what's in the way? Well, for one thing, my bookshelves are being very stubborn. Even after learning how to use a hammerdrill (my god, the power!), I'm still down to empty shelves. I still have no curtains and am awakened by sunrise far too early. I still have no bathroom cabinet as I've been waiting on someone else to take care of something I should have just done myself. I'm still waiting to go "home" and not just to box-laden condo that doesn't seem very homey. I'm really hoping that by the time I see the next full moon, I will be sitting on my balcony, sipping a glass of wine, instead of crying over a slightly uneven floor that makes my shelf tip whenever I open the glass doors. But, I have learned that my best laid plans are always foiled.

Thrown into this mix is a tiny bit of depressing news - I'm losing my licence plate. Due to Ontario's plate-to-driver policy, when my dad officially "sells" me my car (which I bought over 5 years ago), the plate will have to revert back to him. Sad :( This means a whole new plate. Perhaps a vanity plate? I've always liked that notion.

On a bright note: this weekend saw me cook my first proper meal (Whole Wheat Pasta with Tomato-Basil-Mushroom sauce). We take what we can get, yes?