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December 23rd, 2006

Why I Love Company

We're having a lot of guests over the holidays. Friends from Boston came for the night last night (parents and 3 kids), vschanoes is sleeping here over the next few days. People are coming to tea today and tomorrow afternoon, and we're planning a play-reading (Noel Coward, possibly Private Lives) some time next week. 

The place is starting to feel like home.

After 7 months of living in New York, up until recently, the city felt like home, but the apartment didn't.  The apartment felt like a new-born infant:  the light of our lives, but high-maintenance, demanding, and frighteningly fragile.  It's all we could talk about, think about, do.  It came between us and a full night's sleep and (even more important) made doing many of the things we'd moved to New York to do a lot harder instead of a lot easier. 

It's not finished yet, but it's comfortable.  You can walk across the front hall without barking your shins on Papa's army trunk (now on its way to the Sherman Family Historian, Cousin Ed), and sit in the living room without knocking over a pile of pictures.  There is art on several walls, and at the end of the long hall.  Most of the boxes are either gone or piled neatly in corners.  The house no longer smells of cardboard.  It smells of candles and apples (I made applesauce).  The rooms are kind of dark at this time of year, even when it's bright an sunny outside, but we've got it feeling cosy, and that counts for a great deal.  What's more, people are beginning to come and share it with us, and everything feels so much more worth the trouble. One of the kids who came last night kept saying, "This is so homey!"

That's what we like to hear.  And the more people who sit around our table and our food (if you count take-out ours, which I do--we paid for it, anyway) and have lovely conversations about Life and Literature and Writing and Clothes and the Job Market and Family and the rest of it, the better pleased I'll be.

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