happy am I

Sometimes it's time to be a new person. I always think it's easier to be a new person if you go to a new place, a lie I learned by heart as a little one traipsing all over the world. Moving is a self-indulgent pleasure that I refuse to allow myself more than once every few years. This was a happy day.

This house is musical and sunshiny and full of friends.
My room is a pentagon, which delights me every night when I crawl into bed and look up at the ceiling.
It has a nifty contraption in the kitchen that stores my dirty dishes out of sight and then washes them for me.
Anna and I have an upper room walled with windows and little seating, but our friends like it better than the couch-filled living area, so we cram up there like kids in a tree-house. The entire house leans forward and is slowly falling down the hill, but surely that will happen long after our lease is up.
Jim, Bethany, and Tom live in the grand mansion right behind us and an old ladder leaned against the fence lets us get to each other's houses for dinner without having to walk around the block. But be careful if you use it, I ripped my pants on the first climb over and laughed at feeling like a child who should be scolded. I'll be more careful next time, I promise.
Cement walls and carpet everywhere keep the inside comfortable with the heat set at 62.
The neighbor boy has a puppy.

I love it.