So I moved into a bigger house. I normally consider myself a bit of a gypsy soul with the need to wander and stare at new sights every now and again. My old house was the longest I had lived somewhere since I was 15. As I packed up all my things and took down the memories from the wall, I got a little sentimental in the fact that I really did love my little house. I had a routine, a set path of all my calculated movements down pat. I guess I didnt realize that I had a set path of calculated movements till my set path was moved and I feel like I can no longer walk a straight course.
So I am adjusting, to a bigger, better place, and I find myself loving it already. Slowly but surely, I am loving the extra space and as all of my boxes of collected things become empty, I am loving it even more. Im getting used to a new set of creaks and moans as houses sometimes make. Im getting used to finding out and unconsciously memorizing where exactly a light switch is and pretty soon I will be able to navigate my way in the dark.
I am ready for this new adventure as the events in my life turn out for the great, I find myself smiling a little more each day.
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