I had gotten a new job with IBM and was transferring away from my cow neighbors (literally) in Vermont to a hopefully more lively lifestyle befitting a single person in their 20s. The only person I knew in Boston was an ex-boyfriend to whom I was not speaking. I knew nothing about the town and had no idea where I was going to live. All I had planned was that on Monday I was packing my car and driving to Boston. On the Saturday before I left I decided to go skiing one more time, by myself, and while on a chairlift, met a guy from Marblehead, a town north of Boston. He introduced me to his parents, who immediately invited me to stay with them and help me find a place to live. I did, and within a day found a great apartment and a roommate I keep in touch with to this day. I don’t remember ever worrying about the move or any of the details. I possessed a calm faith that it would all work out – and by golly, it did.