I'm watching Twilight for the eleventy-billionth time. I'm not even ashamed anymore. It just sits in the DVD player, and when there's nothing on TV, OH HELLO, TWILIGHT. THERE YOU ARE. I've moved beyond reciting all the lines. I'm pretty sure I can just re-enact the entire movie myself. With my eyes closed.

Ho-hum... Don't tell anyone.

I've been in my apartment for almost a month now. Time flies once you have furniture. I'm kind of digging my mini home. I do not kid about mini, either. Think glorified dorm room. Only cooler because, well, it's mine. And because I said so.

It doesn't quite feel like home yet, though. Despite the fact that Twilight may or may not be playing at any given moment. Also despite all of my things taking up all of the space. And despite the rent checks I write. Something is totally missing and I haven't quite put my finger on it yet.

I'm loving the neighborhood. I'm loving the new running routes, and the proximity to downtown. I'm also loving that Harley's finally taken to shitting IN her litterbox (knock on wood). Apparently she's decided it's home. I'm working on it.

My last five "homes" have been so temporary. I didn't live in any of them for longer than six months. I very quickly went through cities and apartments the way I went through boyfriends in my early 20s.

(I just referred to a period of my life as "early 20s," OMG. We'll just pretend 27 is the new 19.)

Maybe I fear commitment now. I'm all, "So, wait. You're telling me we're going to LIVE here? For, like, a long time? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS."

I've already been in Madison for seven months, almost exactly. Where the hell did that time go? And, wow, I miss working on the campaign, now that I'm all reminiscent... Oh, sigh.

I feel like an entirely different person than I was then. Seven months ago I was a bitter, sad, heartbroken, little person. Sometimes I am still one or all of those things for a variety of reasons, but I never thought I'd see a day when I'd be none of them. I also never thought I'd see a day when I wasn't living in an attic. But here I am! In an apartment! All big and happy and wholehearted!


No, for real. This is exciting. But now I just need to convince myself that it's real. And permanent. And that it's OK to settle down and maybe spill some things on the floor and put nails in the walls.

It's probably also OK to watch a movie other than Twilight, but why the hell would I do that?