So, Kartik and I are moving to a new apartment, and it's been kinda busy - packing and all.
Moving always makes me feel sad and nostalgic. I don't know, something about leaving the house where I spent endless hours on the couch in front of TV, debated on what to cook and then fidgeted with the ingredients in the cabinets, fixed the order of books on the shelf, arranged and then re-arranged my precious Lenox vase, crashed on the bed after a looong day at work - doesn't feel good. It's as if the house were my family, someone (or rather something) who has seen me through so much, and now I am leaving it behind.
And as we pack away the books, the vase and oh, my millionth candle (I love candles!), memories remain suspended in the air, like a mist in the mountains - you can see it, feel it, but not touch it!
Have a wonderful weekend.