The piercing fire alarm sounded this morning at about six. I got up and started looking around. Where was this thing? How do I turn it off? And why is it going off?

I saw it in the hallway near the heater, which was just heating up--probably for the first time in a few weeks. It was burning old dust, which, apparently, was setting off the fire alarm (interesting that cooking in the stove or burning incense the night before didn't). I turned the light on in the hallway. The alarm stopped. The heater came on. And I still had a few hours for sleep.

Last night was my first night at the new place. Living truly alone for the first time...ever.

I've always had roommates. Always found people to live with, share rent, utilities, food. But when it was clear I'd have to figure out a new living situation, I had little gumption to find someone else to live with. So began the search for a new abode.

I used craigslist and found a few possibilities there. And the Sunday Journal had the most choices (although, apparently, people get cracking early in the morning on Sundays calling places--and I was casual, waiting until Monday). But a week and a half ago, I turned down Truman to see if there were any signs out in front of those triplexes. And there was one. Four and a half blocks from the old house.

About five days later I had the keys and started the process of cleaning (vacuuming the carpet, using a few different chemicals to get out the cat from the previous resident--pets leave more residue of their residency than most human counterparts) and moving out of the house I've lived in for the last eleven and a half years.

I'm not all the way moved out because I don't have the cable installed yet. Can't use all my computer stuff if I don't have that web connection. So this is the last column being written by me in the old office.

I've been sifting through old dust and been more than occasionally stuffed up the last few days. And everything is blooming, as our first solid week of 70s passed last week. Plus, there's still a little bit of cat at the new place.

A couple days of light moving (by myself, just a few boxes and things a day--non essentials or storage type stuff), a couple of heavy moving (with my brother, who is keeping the house with his girl) and now I've got stacks everywhere. Today is putting things back together and finding out what else I might need to make everything work.

And it will. My band hadn't gotten together for two weeks before yesterday, and we all seemed to have digested all the work we'd done in the month before. Even though I hadn't been able to play drums in two weeks (parents visiting, the moving thing) and the guitarist broke his collarbone in a biking accident. We were more together and sure of the songs than we'd been before. Still haven't decided on a name yet, though.

So as I made coffee in the new place this morning with Meet The Press zoning in and out as I walked through the rooms, I knew that the new would become normal soon enough. And the piles and boxes and logistical dilemmas would soon be fixed and put where they need to be.

The first night is a mixture of new and old. Do things you normally do (watch a DVD and cook up something to eat) and adjust to the beginnings of new patterns. I still don't know how to arrange the furniture. I need some curtains. And it took fifteen minutes or so to figure out how I'd screwed up plugging in all the electronic equipment.

But I'll figure it out. Hell, I might even find a new job here in the next month or so. More new mazes to run though, cause I really like that cheese.

Matt Worley needs to find something to put his drinks on while he's watching TV.