Incongruous

It is disconcerting. The incongruity of the situation is what strikes me. These first few days, nothing is where it should be.

Little things stick out: speaker cables on the coffee table. A colander on the floor. Paintings in the garage. Cards Against Humanity on the range top. But I've done this before and I know everything will eventually find its right place.

Larger things have been permanently altered, too. Light does not slap us in the face the first thing in the morning, with the new house rotated in a different direction. Couch and loveseat sit on opposite sides as before so now if we want to lie down while watching TV (and when don't we?), we lie facing the other way.

Even the cat knows things are out of whack. She excitedly prances around her new castle, sensing the furniture from before is now somewhere else. The world outside the big bay window is very different.

For now, boxes take the place of any furniture we have yet to buy and inside those boxes are hiding all the kitchen tools and paperwork and knickknacks we search for. It will have to do for now. Soon we will root through boxes and put our new world right. We have all the time in the world to get settled.