Newton.

I was going to do a blog about our new place (which rocks, by the way) but decided instead to do one about Newton, a kitten we are kitten-sitting for a week.

We were a bit apprehensive about taking him in at first because I have a pretty significant cat allergy. By pretty significant, I mean that I get hives the size of Alaska and sneeze my frontal lobe out every time I am near a feline. I wasn't always allergic, but ever since I went off to college, it was bestowed on me. Phooey, I say.

But, alas, his cuteness won me over, and I decided that living off of Benadryl for a week would be worth it. I missed having a cat around.

Anyway, here are some pictures of the little guy.






Also, I took some video of him playing with the laser pointer. I think they are pretty entertaining. When he's awake, he's more or less non-stop. I can only write this now because he's sleeping, otherwise he'd be on top of my laptop, attacking the keys.

An apartment cleaned, a lesson learned

It's not often that one has an epiphany while cleaning an oven.

But, it happened to me.

See, I was really anxious before we moved. Suddenly, I couldn't remember why we were moving. After our roommate moved out, our apartment felt huge again, and I could not fathom living anywhere else.

I cried a ton on my birthday, because each time I saw our mountain of boxes, I didn't want to leave. I cried when we came to the new apartment because it felt so different than our home. I didn't sleep at all the night before we moved, and I felt sick and miserable about leaving.

But anyway, the truck was packed, and on what felt like the hottest day in the history of the world, we moved out of our little tree house.



I kept wandering around the new place, feeling like I was just on vacation and would promptly be returning home, while Evan, totally enamored with the in-unit washer/dryer, promptly did four loads of laundry and went about unpacking boxes while I moped.

The next day, we trooped over to the old apartment to clean it. I was nervous, because I just knew that I'd be overcome with homesickness and never want to leave it again.


But, as I dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed and washed this old apartment, I suddenly saw it just as it was: an old, empty apartment. There was nothing in those old rooms that made it feel like home. I didn't feel overcome with homesickness because this place was so obviously not my home. It was an old, (very dusty) apartment that I had lived in once.

I had just a little bit of time to think about this, because the next day, we headed up to Portland to celebrate the Fourth with my family. And here, I was home. I was home because I was with my family, and with people I loved.

And a few days after that, we came home to Corvallis. Again, I was home because I was with a person I care so very much about.

Most of you probably know this, but it took me a good hour of cleaning out our old oven and vacuuming corners with dust cougars to realize that it's not a place that makes a home, or the furniture in it: it's the people that make it home. One doesn't go home after a long day thinking, "I am going home to a great, Craftsman-era bungalow with great built-ins and wood detail," they think, "I am going home to my family."

Regardless of where I am, if I am with family, with people I love, then I am home. Right now, home is right here in this quiet corner of Corvallis with Evan. I know that now, and I couldn't be happier.

Plus, the in-unit laundry is pretty rockin'.