Unpacking . . . . .

before the onslaught of boxes . . .

Living in a home that was home to others is an interesting task.  Some of their stuff.  Some of mine.  Sorting, deciding, re-arranging . . . . it goes on.

What to keep, what to throw, what to move, what to sort: decisions galore.  And it can be overwhelming at times.  Of course, I can be easily overwhelmed.  And, with enough floor space, we can put off decision making till tomorrow.  After all, tomorrow is another day. (Thanks, Scarlett).

I'm getting things sorted, but not me.  I've got some sorting I need to do, too.  But that will come.  I've been living with others for over two years.  This being alone is a new thing.  I don't like changes. And I miss my friends.

In other news . . . .

I have managed a date now and then, even amongst the busy-ness of everything.  There are some really nice guys out there.  I hope one will find me.  And I, him.  If I can find the time.