Wow. Missed two days, there. Not feeling great about that, but carrying on.
Made it home, and not feeling quite as satisfied about that as I might expect. The place feels… well, it’s mine, and that’s good. But it feels much less comfortable than some of the places we stayed. I know that hotels are designed to be comfortable, so there’s an edge there, but this place feels like it’s not ready to be lived in yet.
We picked up a painting in a little homestyle restaurant the other day–yesterday, in fact. It’s all warm gold and brown tones, a country road and a cloudy sky, an oil painting that was up on the wall for sale. I’ve hung it up, and it seems to help a bit. Looking around now (not anywhere I can see the painting in question), the walls seem pretty bare.
Maybe reorganizing a little will help. I don’t know. We don’t spend a lot of time in the living room; our offices are on different floors. I know it’s different coming home, but it definitely seems easier to spend time away from each other with the layout here.
Something to think about, I guess. Probably when the coming-home melancholy wears off.
 And they all had these amazing pillows. I mean really big pouffy cuddly pillows. I miss them.