the size of the blackheads on my nose. I'd even venture that nobody's well-being or happiness hinges on the clarity of my pores or the soon-to-be-"pastel jade" bedroom. After three years lived inside suitcases, painting the wall trim above our kitchen cabinets feels at once overwhelming and small. I hyperventilate in Home Depot, I am paralyzed in Walgreens. The magnitude of making a home, from the logistics of it to the decisions about wall trim and bathroom tile, chokes me to the point of silence. And at once, so does the fact that I have not used the word "impact" since landing here. In a sense, I have landed in the middle of a story. I have catapulted out of field work and parachuted into Boston, sliding straight from asking questions and measuring impact and hopefully making some impact too to making a home and grappling with a magnitude of permanence my mind cannot yet process. Edwardian Lace is my reality now -- or, at least, the reality of our soon-to-be new and freshly-painted staircase. Gem Turquoise? That's the kitchen wall. We did go with Dew Drop for the trim. Vermont Cream for the den. Peachy Kiss never left Home Depot. My schedule for tomorrow reads: "Post-project impact assessment. Write closing report. E-mail mentorship curriculum handbook to new scholars. Start painting new house." The worlds are blending into one another, but to me, they are still separate colors. I am slowly realizing I do not know the first thing about