I have a new place. It is grand. It is low, and warmly lit, and cozy, and partly underground. It is very much like a hobbit hole, and if you come to visit me (which you should - ring the bell in the back!) I will answer the door and shuffle off to put tea on, much like Bilbo, and you will likely step inside and immediately hit your head on my ceiling , much like Gandalf.
But really, its quite lovely. You should see it. I am already in love with it. I sit at my desk and look out at green ivy and old, red brick, and orange morning sun cut into beams by the arch of wrinkled bark that shades the street. I walk out along a narrow Ivy lined path by the rough brick wall, pass under the trailing fingers of a weeping willow, and i am in a neighborhood that actually lives and moves. I can tip my imaginary hat to the cafe regulars on the way to their morning cup, hop on a bicycle, and be on my way.

This will be a happy place, i should think.