Few things feel this good.  I'm laying in our new bed, watching TV, after just eating a home-cooked meal and taking a scalding hot oh-so-soothing bath and getting ready to knock off to la-la-land.

Frank fell asleep on the couch downstairs, but he had such a long hard day at work I'm not even going to wake up him to come to bed.  I just covered him up with a blanket and put some juice on the coffee table for him.

I'm still in strangeland here.  When I come home, I'm home in a way I haven't felt before.  It's not just an apartment or the place I live or even like when I called my apartment in Chicago home.  This feels like it in a totally different, entirely real way.  It's peculiar to me that there was a time when this was the opposite of what I wanted.  It's even more peculiar to me that it makes me feel so grown up, and that I like that feeling.

Anyway, I'm off to bed.
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