Officially leafy

Yes, I am still alive, and happily ensconced in the Leafy Suburb, surrounded by only a few unpacked boxes but still feeling very transitional. I'm an old hand at moving and settling in to new places, but maybe this time there's more self-induced pressure to feel blissfully at home because this is, after all, our Forever House, and a wonderful house it is. But I'm not quite there yet, maybe just because not enough time has passed or because our pictures, rugs and some other things are still in boxes, or because this is the nicest house I've ever lived in and I feel guilty about getting fingerprints on Our Nice New Whatever while thousands of people in Darfur and such places do not have wall-to-wall bedroom carpeting and sparkling water-efficient new toilets and recessed lighting and a view of trees, trees everywhere. I find myself focusing on the few things that are still lacking, like grass instead of the rocks, weeds and random nails and other construction scraps still outside, or the as-yet-uninstalled towel bar in the kids' bathroom, which is ridiculous and makes me feel even guiltier. Perhaps I simply need to settle into new routines large and small (finding stores and optimal commuting routes, grabbing things in the kitchen without having to stop and think where they are). So. The bottom line is that the house is terrific but like a high-end thoroughbred, it needs a little breaking in, and house/horse and rider have to develop a comfort level with each other. It's not just a building, it's a Significant Other. Meanwhile, the weather is warm, the days are long, the kids are having fun in camp and the Red Sox are about 11 games ahead of the Yankees.