A Place

Found a place. Other side of The Bridge. No fireplace. Or balcony, for that matter. On the other hand, it does have a Sound view (if you crane your neck). Also, cheap to heat: once all my furniture and I move in, there won't be that much space left over for air. So, some pluses, some minuses. Definite plus is, the building is new, and the usual infestations by rodents and insects whose ancestors came over on the Mayflower, aren't there.

Town is called Milford. Following New Englandish tradition, I think I'll call it New Birmingham, since it reminds me of that sub-town of Detroit. Very new, yuppy-ish neighborhood, trying hard to have Character. This is strange, since the town actually dates back to Colonial times. But, now it's got Ye Olde Irish Pub and Ye Olde Poodle Groomery and Ye Olde Sushi Jointe. The main road then, will be called New Woodward, since it contains one of every type of store that is required for life, and indeed, runs past what seems like the only shopping mall in the entire state. Minnesota, you used to get a mall every twenty yards, Connecticut, not so much. Milford has a small harbor where some very pretty boats likely live (shrink-wrapped for the winter now, but should be getting plonked into the water soon). Looks like excellent kayaking. There is also a place called Charles Island, which is connected to the mainland by a sandbar, but only at low tide. Charles Island has several ghost stories. Sounds like a trip, once I get moved out of the hotel.