She's moved twelve times.

Two countries. Three states. Twelve different addresses. Eighteen different roommates.

Lately she finds herself walking down the streets gazing wistfully into the windows at places like Crate and Barrel and West Elm.

While most of her friends are starting to worry that they will never have kids, she's starting to worry that she may never own a couch.

"Like the day between morning and evening, my life falls between my urge to travel and my homesickness. Maybe someday I will have come far enough for travel and distances to becomes part of my soul, so that I will have their images within me, without having to make them literally real anymore." -Wandering, Hermann Hesse