Thank-you cards are in one house; stamps are in the other. Exercise class is in Jackson; workout clothes are back home--or perfect hiking conditions appear back home, but hiking shoes are in Jackson.
Living in two houses has only become more complicated since I started my sabbatical. I'm spending more time in Jackson and engaging in a wider range of activities, so I need more stuff, but I'm back at my other house two days a week so I need stuff there too, and the stuff I need isn't always in the place where I need it.
I finally moved my big stand mixer to Jackson, but every time I use it, I wish I were back in my home kitchen where work space is more abundant. In Jackson I long for the big picture window where I can watch all the birds at the feeders, but then I get back home and have to deal with filling those feeders and disposing of dead mice and filling the wood-burner and I want to be back in Jackson, where it's easier to clean because the water doesn't turn everything orange.
At home I can sit by the big window and watch the birds while working on my laptop, but then when I need to find something online, I struggle with a slow and unreliable internet service. In Jackson I enjoy the fast, reliable internet connection but feel cut off from birds and everything that's beautiful about my woods.
Living in two houses means I'm always aware of the absence of the other, the lack of a place I love. I can't live in two places at once, so I suppose I need to focus on living in the moment, making do with what I have, and ignoring the call of my other place. Angel-food cake can wait, but this minute right here in this particular spot will never come my way again.
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