There is something to be said for people who do not like change. I am one of them. I like a good solid routine. I like to know what’s coming. I like to know what to expect.

This move has really thrown a wrench in my previous system. The whole work routine is fine. Get up, get on the train, a two minute walk to the water taxi, with plenty of time for a coffee stop, and a couple block walk to work. Reverse for travel home. The train is relaxing, and I get to read, or write, or whatever I want to do on the train. That routine is ok.

But when I get home, it’s so weird to have some else there. I’ve lived alone for the last four years. I’m used to the quiet, and things happening a certain way. And now they don’t. I never know if we’re going to be running around all night together, or sitting around. I never know if laundry will need to be done, or how long it will take to clean up. Jeremy tends to leave a mess behind him, and cleaning that up can sometimes be time consuming. There isn’t a routine yet. I don’t like it.

And on top of there being no routine, the house is still not unpacked, things are still not put away, and my OCD can’t handle that. I have no place to put my clothes. I gave up a closet big enough to put a small bed in, to a closet less than half it’s size. I don’t think Jeremy appreciates the sacrifice I’ve made. But my clothes don’t fit in it. And we have a miniature three drawer dresser, which we each get a drawer and split one. I still have duffel bags of clothes sitting out. This morning while looking for my tank top, I had to look through my closet, drawer, a wash basket filled with clean folded clothes, and two duffel bags. It is the most frustrating thing. And it really makes me feel, on some level, like I don’t live there. Like I’m visiting. And half my stuff is still in Madison.

So, change has been hard. I’m working on it isn’t coming easy. I’ve never been a lover of change. So after this first week, I need to try to find my routine, my schedule, and, hopefully, a place for all my stuff.

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