A Pitcher of Pasta

I have a pitcher filled with pasta in my refrigerator. My first full day has not been quite the rainbow dream I'd expected. Actually, I've spent the majority of the day laying in the fetal position, on the dirty couch in my camphouse. I know, pathetic, but there's no sense in writing about life if I'm not going to be honest.

I am here by myself for the first few days. I will have some staff joining me later in the week, but for now it's just me. I thought I would be fine and it would be an adventure, but I'm the kind of person that needs to be surrounded by people 100% of the time, so this solitary confinement thing isn't going well. And it's gray, rainy and freezing. And there are literally a million things to do and it's overwhelming. And I don't feel like I'm home yet. The whole house is dirty and I don't know where anything is and I keep thinking of things I need but don't have.

In October, I bought a house. I have spent the last 7 months cleaning and decorating and filling my house with everything a house needs. I LOVE my house. It's beautiful and comfortable and it's mine. It's truly home. And now, after all that hard work, I'm here. And today, I was not happy about that. I miss my space. I miss having everything I need in the exact places I determined things should go. I know that this new house will eventually be home for the 4 months I am here and I will grow to love it and be comfortable, but right now, it's not, and that's making everything else harder to deal with.

I know I will laugh about these first few days later on, but tonight, I have not been laughing. To cook dinner, I was like one of the Boxcar Children, scavenging throughout camp for pots and pans and dishes. I managed to scrape together enough to get me through the meal but when I went to put the leftovers away and realized I didn't have tupperware or ziplock bags or anything. So I put it in a plastic pitcher and put a coffee filter over it and I shook my head, because at my house at home, I have a LOT of tupperware. Why again did I leave my perfect home for this? I couldn't remember, but I was determined to make the best of my situation, so I started doing the dishes but I didn't have any dishtowels. And that was right about the time I lost it. I didn't want to be in a cold, gray, rainy, dirty, unorganized place anymore. So I spent a few minutes sobbing over a sink of dishes because I missed my dishtowels.

And so I've spent my last few hours crying and then laughing because crying is so absurd, and then crying, because I desperately miss my roommates, my dishtowels, my tv, my life, and I don't know what I'm doing here.