My friend Ken just moved into a new home. He's 60-plus-years-old, so I know he's been through all of this before. He slept in his new place for the first time yesterday. I know that feeling—especially the awakening in the morning to the new setting. It's akin to being reborn. The strangeness of the new surroundings at first is momentarily adventurous, perhaps like waking in a new lover's bedroom for the first time.
Typically one is up late the night before getting the new bedrrom properly arranged, so by the time they go to bed and close their eyes, they really haven't spent much time looking at it. I suppose that's why it's so fresh and new the next morning.
This reformed awakening has a stange way of making one feel like they have a renewed lease on life—or at least it's a new chapter in their life. However, there is the downside to this unique sensation—the agonizing process of moving.
I think I'll rearrange my bedroom one of these nights, maybe I'll wake the next day with this same sensation.
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