I'm sitting on my patio, reading. Kids are running back and forth along Breeze Ave, which is a pedestrian only walkway. They're shouting at each other in Portuguese and kicking a soccer-ball back and forth. At the end of the block, at the beach, I hear a procession of people going by playing drums that sounds like marimbas. One of them is singing a high, clear sort-of chant. It's obviously rehearsed, not just the usual jamming that goes on at the end of my block all weekend, generally.
From the tree next to me, which bears teeny little purple blossoms, a whole flock of birds no larger than the palm of my hand flit by. They're doing a skybound hop from one tree to the next, right past me. As they flounce by, one by one, they emit high warbling chirps. A green butterfly flutters by. There's a hummingbird near by - at first I think she's a big insect, but then I hear the weird birdsong they make, like a modem making a connection.
I've just finished putting up shelves in the kitchen, and a rack to hang wineglasses from. There's a new area carpet grayish-blue with geometric patterns, and a dark gray couch that I found at a much lower price than I expected - the color is perfect, and the size is just right for my admittedly small (cozy, dammit!) space. It even pulls out so guests can stay the night if they want.
Almost all the boxes are unpacked and gone - all that is left to do is find a kitchen table and chairs. There are two troublesome boxes that I just don't know what to do with - isn't that always the case when you move? But otherwise, everything is just right and ship-shape. I've even got a little cafe table out on the patio for exactly the purpose that it is now being put; holding a cup of coffee and the book that I am reading.
This is the life, man. Ahh, Venice.