I'm now trying to resist sending my parent's first child a tasteless prison birthday card. Apparently, even though it was only, like, a six dollar bottle of wine that he stole, the court is going to try it as a felony, as is their prerogative. And good for them. Jesus, I'm still toeing the line with my parents so I don't get cut out of the will with regards to how I (don't) give a hoot about my older brother. Mom still pops up with little stories of how proud she is of him in his day to day behaviours. I swear, she has more shits to give about his screwed up life, and more spits to give about my steady yet low-paying job. Yes, I'm sure that if I were stuck at home with you because of illegal activity, we'd have tons of bonding stories. But since I'm a grown adult who lives six hours away, I'm a boring disappointment.

Yeah, the grace period due to dead grandmothers has worn off.

Hil, there are space heaters with built-in fault protection for wet areas: [link]

Thanks! Just ordered one. (Amazon Guaranteed Delivery by Wednesday, which means it'll probably be delivered Friday.)

Hil, do you pay for your own heat, or is it the landlord's responsibility? If so, there may be regulations as to a reasonable temperature the heat/hot water should be at.

There are any number of things I should be doing this fine day - mailing packages, mowing the lawn, washing dishes, doing laundry, etc. - that I am not doing. Instead, I am staying bundled up in my fleece robe and reading Foxglove Summer. It's very pleasant.

I'd better get something done tomorrow, though.

I went grocery shopping. Why I wait until everyone and their brother is hitting Trader Joes, when I can just as well go there at 11 am on a Wednesday, remains a mystery. Among other things, I picked up the ingredients for baking bread. I've never quite gotten the chewy crust I like, but even failures in that area are still decent homemade bread.

I also stupidly went grocery shopping when everyone and their brother was doing the same thing. But now I have strawberries and asparagus and kale and sharp cheddar and French bread.

We were all mourning that we'd never have an excuse to shop at Pat's Farms and get Regina cookies for less than four bucks. It is now my mission to find a comparable recipe. My first one over the holidays had too much lemon, and I definitely need to bake it longer.

I had to get someone from my landlord's maintenance staff to alter a governor setting on my bathroom's hot water a couple of years ago. Such a relief to not be covered in lukewarm water on freezing winter mornings. (Of course I realize I keep an uncomfortably low heat setting to save money and have that snuggled under warm blankets feeling, but I prefer hot showers to hot apartment in general.)

I wish I could make out with my electric blanket, just to let it know how much I appreciate it.

More than his mom, I felt like we were mourning Long Island. No more need for crappy hotels. No more excuse to hit the delis, bakeries, and pizzerias and bring back baked goods to New England. No more excuse to hit the boardwalk at Jones Beach. If we ever go back, we're not visiting anybody. All of my dad's new tricks and familiarity about the best crap motel to stay in closest to his mom and the backway to get a McDonalds coffee is all moot.