I will be sitting on our deck, over-looking our backyard, with a glass of lemonade in my hand, waiting for it to cool down enough that I can jump in the the hot tub.
The kids will be asleep, each in their own room — and neither of those rooms shared with us.
Music will be playing, streamed from the Mac over a gigabit wired network, controlled by my iPhone — unaffected by the neighbour’s microwave ovens.
And when I’m ready to call it a night, I’ll pull pajamas out of a drawer, instead of a suitcase, and sleep on a real bed — not a mattress on a floor.
And it will be good.