The joys of the modern age: sitting in your shorts and a tee in a lawnchair in the sun on your driveway with a laptop computer, a three-thousand song digital music collection, and a wireless broadband internet connection. How sweet is that?

I suppose the only things that might make it perfect would be a cold beer. And maybe some soft green grass into which to plant my feet. Instead of a lawn there grows a plethora of tall green weeds with flowers that look remarkably like daisies. Oh, and thistles. There are always thistles.

The condo sales centre across the road and down a bit looks like it’s getting ready to close shoppe for the day. Some dude down the street is sitting in the sun in a black lawnchair on his driveway, too. The dust stirs a little in the gentle breeze: there are no trees, really, to catch it. People are cycling by, random folks on bikes, every couple of minutes until they reach the end of the street where the construction begins; then they either turn back or continue on.

I’m sitting here thinking of all the things I should do more of: walking, biking, taking photos of the local area, writing…

I also need to finish changing over all the addresses I’ve been accumilating since last spring. I’ve been flirting with the address folks at the pitiful rate of just a couple a day and, not without cause, I’m still far from done: surprisingly there emerge plenty with old Burnaby phone numbers or postal codes messed up from Vancouver, yet. Strange: somehow the letters find me.

To date, the neighbors have all said their requisite “hellos”. I wonder if anyone will talk much anymore. No one has yards, and after the initial introduction and scurrying back into the houses there has been very little interaction. Someone needs to host a block party. I’m sure everyone is social — to a point. But in a new neighborhood, everyone is new. You’d think that would mean something.

Did I mention I bought a shovel? It’s a square-styled one with a long handle. It worked well to scrape the layers of glue-like dirt from the sidewalk and into the yard-proper. I also bought a corn-broom. It’s almost worn out from all the dust here. But, my sidewalk is relatively clean now. My thought is to do a few bits a day: it assures the neighbors that we’re not just some sloppy kids who are going to let the place go to crap — and it assures me that I might have something resembling progress as I work toward yard-ness.

There may be hope yet. Who knows.