I haven't exercised since I moved into my temporary home.
Temporary home.
This is at the core of why I feel so disconnected. Because I have no place of my own. I don't even have an apartment of my own. I have a room in a house in which I plan to stay until April, and then move on.
Transient.
This is fine, in the long run. I don't mind knowing exactly when I'll be moving on to somewhere else. It's actually comforting to know when I have to start looking for a new place.
But in the short term, I'm floating through my routine without any sense of grounding.
I'm still not sad that we sold the house I grew up in. I'm a little startled that it has happened, though, even though I knew it was going to be sold for almost a year now. But just last Friday, it was final. Now my home for 23 years, the home I grew up in, is owned by someone else, and I'm not welcome there anymore.
Another sign of how impersonal life in Western society can become. I'm sure there's some culture in which you're likely to be welcomed back into the home where you were born, even if only to visit. But we sold the house through a realtor to someone we barely have even met, and have no intention of ever meeting again, much less visit.