Nightlock, nightlock, nightlock

As soon as we're done with one apparatus, there's a six-year-old who always, without fail, asks where we're going next. Sure, they all want to know. But she's especially persistent.

"Why?" I asked her.

She rolled her eyes in her six-year-old way. "I need to know things."

I feel you, kid. It's all up in the air right now -- where will I be living? With whom? Where should I be living? What am I working toward? What's the right move? I'm more on my way as a writer than I was last year at this time, certainly. But as a physical entity, I worry about retrograde motion. 

Can I has home, plz?