Visiting home...

It's a long time since I spent time at my apartment. I go back now and then for mail, or to dust, or to look for a book. I feel odd there, as if it is somewhere that I used to live. I have a fondness for it, but no longer an intimacy. 

I've been off blip for a few days because the online photo-book making company I use was offering 50% off all photo books, but the offer ended today, so I had to pull it together. I worked on the books every moment when I wasn't doing things I had to do. Four books are now made and finished, and the 50% off made it possible for me to afford ordering them. I'm out of touch with everyone's journals, but maybe I'll catch up soon.