way of things

A new house groans in unexpected ways, ways that gives its new owner pause:

How does this oven work?
Why isn't the fridge cold?

A new house takes years to know; maybe that's what makes me uncomfortable. Sitting in my chair,

wondering:

Will I know this place as well as I knew the last? Will I like it as much? Feel a little lost when I leave it?

Boxes and mail forwards and new faucets.

So much has happened in the recent past that I recoil a bit, touching parts of a house I don't yet know.

That's always the way of things, feeling a little lost when you leave.