On the one hand: tired of this shit.

On the other hand: fuck it.

Things are simultaneously great and terrible, somehow. We have moved to a new place, which is great. I no longer have to treat my room as an all-in-one work-from-home/reading lounge/therapist’s office/entertainment center/zen yoga shala/sleeping zone where I also eat my oatmeal every morning (in bed). I now have separate places for all those activities. And yet I still do everything in one place: the kitchen.