Five days, five trips back and forth between the old place and the new one, and five dozen or so boxes worth of worldly possessions, I'm finally to the point where, between the time I get up in the morning and when I go to sleep in the morning, I don't have to unpack any boxes. It's amazing how liberating this is. Things I'm so not going to miss about the old place: EVERYTHING. I love not having to worry about making sure nothing looks like it's been used, especially the damn bathroom. I love that I can use my own dishes now (I bought some!), and I don't have to worry about some crazy woman holding up a frying pan like some freaky Jason. Wait, I can put a loaf of bread on the counter? What? You can do that?! YES YOU CAN, MOTHERFUCKER. And I am, it's on there right now.

One of the perks of living in this place is that it comes with a dog. A dog that's not abused by being forced to live in the utility room with a little square blanket it's supposed to poop on, no. (If there's anything I feel bad about from moving, it's that the damn dog doesn't have a decent owner; at least when I was there I could take him out and play with him and try to improve his poor doomed puppyhood. But I digress.) This dog is a genuine big dog, the biggest dog with whom I've ever gotten to share the same plot of land.

When I went swimming to cool off this evening (hello, pool!), the dog decided to join me. First it was a game of fetch, and then he got hot and decided that jumping in the pool was the perfect way to cool off. Wait, let me rephrase that: he decided that jumping on me was the perfect way to cool off. It just happened to be convenient for him that I was in the pool when he decided to take that plunge.

That's Dylan, the best new friend I could possibly ask for. He's cute even when he's all soggy.