Step into my office.

These days, I have been working some from coffeeshops and some from home. Working from home is, obviously, easier on my grad-student-esque financial situation, and now there's even more reason to: my new house has a really lovely front porch.

Every morning this week I have worked on this front porch. It is, in fact, the only place in the house that I am able to pick up (or pirate, or steal, or whatever you want to call it) wireless internet, and that is an absolute essential for time-wasting email-checking every 20 min. Another thing I like: Austin is hot in the summer, right? Well, and this should be news to all you northerners, it IS hot, but because of the ubiquity of AC, nobody ever really notices. It's not an issue, only very rarely bothersome in any sort of way. Yet true to form, I feel a bit guilty about that (read once in adbusters magazine that it takes twice as much energy to decrease the temp of an environment by one degree than to increase it). So now that the magic happens on my front porch everyday, I get to really FEEL the heat. By 4:30 my skin feels clammy and little beads of sweat are hanging out on my upper lip. And YES, I LIKE that. I feel like I am REALLY living in Austin, connecting to the land and to the seasons rather than to an artificial environment. Wendell Berry would be proud.

The other things that I like, in no particular order, are: the old movie seats (that say "Century theaters" on the arms and have very convenient cupholders) that we have on the porch; feeling like I might actually get to know some of my neighbors this way (or at least, gain some notoriety); watching the grass in our lawn grow (which it is very, very good at); classic Massive Attack albums such as Blue Lines, for example, and the song "Be Thankful for What You Got" (look it up and listen to it, you won't be sorry); parenthetical statements (in case you didn't already notice).

One more thing. Yesterday morning, I had just settled in with my laptop and coffee and the mailman, Harry comes sidling up to our mailbox. I decide to walk out to take the mail from him personally, which I used to love to do as a kid for some reason. I think I associated the arrival of the mail each day with excitement and suspense, even though I recieved a lot less mail than Mr. "Current Resident." Anyway, he looks at me with my coffee in hand and says, "You look like you don't have a care in the world!" I laugh and say, "Well, I guess I don't!" He replies, "Show me how! Show me how..." and shakes his head and drives off.

Well, Mr. Mailman, when I really figure it out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I just hope that you too have a porch.