You know how it is when you go visit family, or a very good, old friend. And you stay with them in their home for an extended vacation.
Everything in the place is familiar, because you've been there so many times before. And it's great, for awhile. You genuinely enjoy being there. It's a novelty, really.
But weeks later, you're tired of being somewhere that isn't home. You begin to think about home, picturing it in your mind. And eventually, the slightly-familiar-but-not-quite-home feeling urges you to pack up and leave.
To go back.
To go home.
That's what it's like. Like I'm visiting a relative. Everything in the apartment is familiar...like I've been here many times before. And I love the new place, really I do. Everything about it so far. It's a novelty, you see.
But it's just too soon to really think of this as the place to come home to from a trip somewhere else.
It's like the visit is wearing thin. And it's time to go.
It's just a bit unsettling.
It's like...you know.