At 9am the crates arrived, secure and solid packed, eight of them in all, one for each room, with two more for the loungeroom. The delivery scanner nodded briefly when I opened the screen door to him, palletting the boxes without further comment. We farmed the boxes out to their rooms and they sat there, claiming ownership. The record collector, the books, the players. I took down the door separating the loungeroom from the hall and placed it on two trestles, again courtesy of that shed. No lights to speak of, though my phone glowed restlessly in its cradle, awaiting power-up. Things powered up around noon. The rain didn’t stop. At about the time we’d usually be having lunch, I ran back down to the station and went inside a convenience store, warm and full of the scent of steamed buns, coffee and sugar. I bought a couple of energy bottles, some hydrated milk and espresso explosions and then an umbrella, making the walk home more pleasant. I set my little bed up at the back of the loungeroom.