I’m not sure when a house becomes a home, but I don’t think we’re quite there yet. My husband, Peter, and I have moved into the new place. All our stuff is here, but that doesn’t mean we know where anything is. “Have you seen the strainer?” “Which strainer?” “You know, the fine one.” “No.” We have about two dozen conversations like this every day. We got rid of a lot of stuff and now it’s hard to remember what we kept. Then I unpacked by myself, so Peter had to go on a scavenger hunt when he got here. Finally, we had the “last-minute essentials” ...