A planet I can call my own

I was afraid that, in the middle of all this, I'd find that I hate my home. Today I realized that I don't... that it's doing its job. True- it holds more memories than I care to catalog right now [and should find the time to do just that.] But it's my haven, in all its shabbiness and disrepair.

Oh- I know what you're going to say. No, your place is so cool. Thanks, I really appreciate that. People like to visit; it's unlike the usual, and that makes me happy. But the way I see this place? As the embodiment of me: desperately in need of a reorganization, a serious to-the-core housecleaning, and maybe a red chaise.