[ WP ] This is n't home , but it 'll do .

I was finally able to drop to the couch, after the 40 minutes it took me to haul it to the 10th floor. See, the problem of moving into a new country is that you'll probably have no friends for a while, nobody to ask for help when it comes to hauling couches, and nobody to share the celebratory beer with once the task is done. And this couch is not even the last thing I'll have to bring up, but I've decided that I wo n't get a bed that wo n't fit on the elevator, I'm not going through this again. The rest is just my clothes, books and records, all neatly packed into my suitcase. 
 
 The apartment is not small, but the distribution is a bit weird. It makes me feel like I can only fit the small version of my things in it. It's a good thing that I did n't bring much stuff. 
 
 After a few minutes, I fell asleep on the couch. I dreamt of what I had left behind. My friends, my city, all the trivia about it I had accumulated for years now abandoned like my old furniture on the curb. I saw my mother, now used to missing me, not shedding any tears and only smiling in resignation and giving me a hug. `` I love you'', she echoed on my head, `` and I always will. Please, come visit''. `` I will, I said'', and then turned and headed for the plane. 
 
 I woke up pretty sore, this is not the best couch for sleeping, but it'll have to do for a while. I went back to the storage area and got my suitcase with the rest of my things, and when I got back to the apartment I looked for the picture of my mom and I. I set it on the floor and looked at it while I smoked my last cigarette. Nothing else was needed at that moment. Day one is gone. I drifted off into sleep again, in a better position this time. I bet that tomorrow I'll feel better.
