Settling.

I'm still trying to feel at home in my new place. I don't even know what to call it; I can't very well call it "the townhouse" (though that's what it is) since that's what we call my parent's place, and it's larger than an apartment. Perhaps this is indicative of the problem.

Let's call it a flat, shall we? I'm still trying to feel at home in my flat.

I have artwork now, for the walls, but as of yet it's still sitting on the ground, waiting for me to buy picture hangers. I've new sheets, and a bedspread my dad bought for me in China a few years ago, so the bedroom at least feels more like mine than theirs. I recently brought down my own books to fill the bookshelves, which helped my mental attitude immensely, and I've added touches to the dining room and kitchen, but somehow... it still doesn't quite feel like home. I don't sleep well at night yet, and the study feels both bare and cluttered. There seems to be so much left to do in each room to organize and to make it cheerful. And the cleaning never stops-- always more dishes to be washed, more trash to be thrown away, the bed to make, clothes to pick up and launder... The family room is the exception. Sitting on my couch with my pillows and Dr. Bear on the chairs, my new rug on the floor, my DVDs and games in the corner, and my TV on the table I feel safe and comfortable.