returning to a home i'm about to sell

I'm home. Today I enjoyed my home. I spent today, purposely, for the purpose of enjoying my home, and how odd it was yesterday the feeling of returning to a home that I'm about to sell. So today I enjoyed home. I slept a healthy 7.5 hours, woke up to birds and sunshine and a breathable summer morning by writing for two hours, and then slept some more, and then I walked out to the coffee shop to plan some lessons, and then walked home, and then I listened to the radio while the sunset lights filtered through my shutters casting spots of shadows along my desk and along the white wood floors that still give a touch as smooth as the touch I felt the day I had them installed in this then-new home almost two summers ago.

Dear me. I'm in my room now trying to make sense of it all. I try to make sense of it all by typing in my room. And I end up feeling I've made some sense of it all. This feeling lasts for three seconds. Then I lie in bed with the desklamp on, and so often I end up sleeping with the desklamp still on.

There's a touch of genius about my room. The short side of my writing desk is placed against the wall, but the other three sides including the two long sides are placed against openness, openness! Meaning that my desk, my writing surface, is placed well under the ceiling light. Most people have the long sides of their desks parked against the wall so that when they write, they stare at the wall and their backs are against the ceiling light. I've always thought that silly. I knew from the day I saw this room that my room would be arranged the way it is now.