As I look down from my new townhouse’s loft, I see an austere living room and a completely barren dining room. A short walk to my bedroom reveals only a bed and a hamper in its confines. The cupboards in my kitchen are similarly bereft of contents; while a few house multiple items, most contain only a token implement of cooking. It is a Spartan existence, but I am making do.

In my previous residences, I always stored most of my belongings in my bedroom. When that was the case, I felt that I owned an excessive amount of stuff. Now that I have an entire house to fill, my possessions seem woefully sparse. My only furniture was a couch and a bookshelf; for a couple of days, I didn’t even own a bed. In a telling act, my first furniture acquisition was a desk for my computer.

A quick call to Comcast should have been sufficient to hook the elixir of the Internet into the veins of my home. Should have been, but wasn’t. Due to a previous occupant not returning some cable equipment, Comcast insisted that I present myself at their office with a copy of my lease before they would grant me broadband service. That was bad enough, but then the rep had the audacity to wish me a “comcastic day.” What? I’ll tell you what would be comcastic: connecting me to the bloody internet without jumping through hoops. Arg. Comcastic. Is being “comcastic” even a good thing?

Although people seem to think that I now live out in the boonies, my commute is significantly shorter than it used to be. Whereas it was previously about 16 miles, it is now about 12. More importantly, the traffic patterns allow me to drive in without fighting stop-and-go traffic; thus, the four-mile savings is translated into ten minutes of extra time in the morning.

I find myself getting up earlier than I did in my previous residence. The driving force is simple: sunlight. Whereas my previous room was notably lacking in natural light, my new bedroom grants the sun full admittance. I find myself waking up rested and eager to face the day despite the clock reading 5:45 a.m. Winter might be a bit tougher, but I’ll enjoy the long days of summer while I have them.

I will have the opportunity to do something that I’ve never had occasion for in the past: throw a housewarming party. I’m a bit hesitant, but I think it would be good to do; if nothing else, it would force me to get more furniture in short order.

Well, I’ve just moved into my new home. Thank you, random person with open wireless access point…

I’m currently in the process of packing for my move. I’m discovering long-lost photos, missing socks, and things that I didn’t know I had. For example, why in the world do I have not one, not two, but *three* santa hats?

I learned a valuable lesson today. If, in an attempt to make small talk, you ask the woman cutting your hair if she has any big plans for the upcoming 4th of July holiday, be sure that there are no potential language barriers. If there are such barriers, she might interpret your casual query as a proposition of some sort, point to a ring on her finger, and leave you stammering that you “didn’t mean it that way.” The ensuing haircut will be extremely short (yikes!), and the time will be extremely awkward.

It’s been years since I’ve had my hair this short. On the upside, it will eventually grow out again.

That it is a cliche does not make it less true: the key to success is hiring the right people.