T'was the night after Thanksgiving

... and all through the house... I hear nothing. My own house, and I can't sleep. Figures. No problem; I'll just do a blog entry... just a quick one... and I'll be off to dreaming, no doubt.

I'm in Texas again. It's bizzare, actually, and moreso than I'd imagined it would be. The house looks great (kudos to John and company, who performed so many wonderful revisions here and there), and Kyadden can't seem to stop purring, happy as he is to be back. The thought's been crossing my mind more and more that he might be best off staying here until the end of winter break, after which he can go back with me to New York. I mean, he's really happy... the question, then, is if I share his sentiment.

Of course I do. Sure, it's bitter sweet that things are so great here and I'm not around to enjoy them. Nevertheless, I'm quite happy where I am in New York, believe me. Besides, so much of this great stuff is going to end up coming to New York with John when he moves up there next summer, so I'm not going to get too torn up about things. For now, though, it's been a lovely little visit. I'll take it easy for the next few days, enjoy my time with John, and soak in some lingering Texas warmth before heading back to my apartment in the Bronx. Neither my house nor my apartment feels entirely like home for me, to be perfectly honest... and yet, it seems right that I should call them both my home, because they both very much are. Somehow, that seems to work out just fine.