One may think that putting up paintings is not the highest priority when you have moved. In the middle of the mess, with still a couple of boxes to unpack, with books piled on the floor (those that will go into my office eventually) and an array of items in wrong places, paintings instead of empty hooks actually create a sense of order. Marking the territory: this is my space. We haven’t got enough walls to put up all the paintings and pictures we have brought, but every now and then I grab a picture and put it up where it seems just right. As if it has always been there. The shelves are filled with books and CDs, all in the wrong order. It will take Staffan weeks to sort out the CDs in the perfect order he has always had – mysterious order for me, but he can immediately find whatever he is looking for. I have tried to sort books as I unpacked them, carrying up Staffan’s stuff to his study, but I am sure there will be many books shifting from place to place. All the kitchen gear is stored away, and the silver and china are nicely displayed in the glass cupboard. I don’t need to climb over mountains of boxes to get to my writing desk. In other words, everything is going fine.
By the way, I haven’t been out of the house yet.