Unpacking

I feel different, and my knives and forks feel different too, when I hold them again after our five-week separation. Stands to reason, I suppose: if things have changed for me then the same will apply to everything else. We’re pulling stuff out of boxes and it’s all looking very good indeed, and perhaps it’s just that we’re so glad to see it all. How is it possible to be that fond of a spoon? And how come the bedroom dresser suddenly looks like something out of Celebrity Homes? Our home is shaping up and I’m so happy to be welcoming in the tea towels, so delighted to unpack my spotty broom and put up the shoe rack, settling the cutlery into the right drawers with care. These are our gap years, I find myself telling the metal whisk and a small white milk jug. Get ready for some adventures! I suppose I am not quite over the jet lag yet…

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