Home.

For the past 3 years or so, I have been, in a sense, homeless. I mean, I've had a roof over my head, but I haven't felt at home in my apartment. I've been spending the day rearranging furniture, vaccuming, and doing stuff that I usually don't do. Maybe its out of a desire to make my "house" a "home." Maybe I just decided that I need to find home wherever I am, and not just wait for life to start.

Maybe I just want to feel like I felt when my grandmother was alive, and how every room, every inch of her house, orange shag carpet and all, felt like home. I can argue that it was because she was there, but it wasn't just that...she's with me all the time, and I still have my dad...

And then I realized that home isn't because of anyone around you, the people in your home don't make it a home...its within you to make your house, your apartment, your RV, the place you are okay being yourself in.

Well, Kitty likes it. He's exploring and seeing what the hell I did...Dad will like it too. And I have the most beautiful spot for the Christmas tree too. :-)