A lesson in surrender (November in a nutshell)

Surrender. Breathe. Repeat. Lately this has become my life motto. For weeks the new house wasn’t a home. The old house wasn’t a home either anymore. 6.30 A.M. I would wake up in the old house. I kept a few possessions there and would get ready for work. 5.15 P.M. I would make my way to the new house from work. I would tare out carpets, scrub wooden floors until my hands were raw and painted the puke coloured walls with a less repulsive shade. The new house was a tumbly mess of boxes and contents and old furniture and new furniture. The old house was an eerily empty space stripped down to the bare necessities. (Note to self: abandon mission minimalism.) The absence of just one place I could call home was lesson number one in surrender.

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