I moved into my new country home on Sunday. I have a real door, a real closet, and two real windows, which means I'll never have to explain what I mean by, "I live in a teepee," or, "No, it's a real room; it just doesn't have a ceiling." Here in New York we've been blessed with cooler weather. I keep my windows open at night and I can hear kids playing and their parents telling them to go to sleep. I also have a porch. Jealous much? Come visit.
I finished More than It Hurts You, read I Feel Bad About My Neck on the plane from Chicago to Newark, and am almost done with The Idiot Girl and the Flaming Tantrum of Death by Laurie Notaro. We have no Internet at the country home, which I thought would be a major problem, but it's been okay. I just read and go to bed at nine o'clock. This isn't a joke. Nine o'clock. I feel really peaceful and optimistic. I think this fall will be a good one.