It was back to school today for most of the French children. My co-workers, the ones with children, came in to work a little later than usual, the dropping off had been done. Some of the kids went there for the first time, some were old enough to tell their parents to go to work or just get out of there and stop embarrassing them.

I honestly can’t remember any of my first days back after summer holidays. I just have a vague feeling of how I wanted to get back to school and my classmates. I suppose the fact that I usually had my birthday at school start helped blur the lines of what was a prioritised memory or not. I can’t say for sure.
Last week was my birthday and it wasn’t celebrated in any grand fashion at all. I got an extra kiss on my cheek from a colleague, I was taken out for a lovely dinner by my partner, and I got to hear my parents sing to me over a distance of approximately 3470 km.
 
 
Despite the fact that I turned thirty, which I hear is something most people dread, I was happy to finally leave my twenties behind me, to be closer to the age I feel in my mind.
Despite the even-ness and all the celebration that number should entail I was too distracted to really care. I was trying to pack as much and many of my belongings as I could into cardboard boxes and prepare for the end of the work week when I would get the keys to the house.
I’m here now, pretty much all installed. The first thing I conquered was the kitchen. I scrubbed it from top to bottom and filled it with things I love. I claimed it my own and have already managed to perform tiny, delicious wonders in it.
Most rooms are, if slightly empty with only an echo, habitable and unpacked. Going from a tiny flat to a big house without buying a large amount of new furniture does that I’ve noticed. It makes for a lot of free space. We’re not in a hurry. We like it here and want to stay for a while. There’s plenty of time to fill the rooms and decorate.
My home office is already starting to look great. I’ve found all the screws and bits to assemble my old desk that had been hiding in a closet these past three years. It is an inanimate object, I know, but I am convinced that it likes it better here than in the mould over in the old place.
All my books are unpacked but hardly in any organised fashion. I have huge stacks of them all over the desk. I’m thinking a few good bookcases is first on my to-buy list. If I had been handy enough I’d build them but I don’t have the tools and not enough know-how to figure out where to start. Perhaps I could ask someone for help, we’ll see.
 
It has been less than a week since my first full day here in the house and I have already forgotten most of the details. It sort of like going back to school. I knew I wanted to go, and it was fantastic when I finally got there. There’ll be no tests or exams this time but there will be challenges all the same. I have no idea what I should study for but I look forward to seeing what the future holds. Thirty is going to be a great year.
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