Raindrops keep falling on my head…

What a day.  What a day.  What a day.

It started so nice.

We slept late.

Adam got up and made coffee.

I slept till it was finished.

I got up.

We planted ourselves on the couch to watch CBS Sunday Morning News.  This has become one of our favorite things to do.  We actually started doing it because Adam watched with his father while he was home for his grandfather’s funeral.  The story’s are always heart warming and sweet.  In one story today that discussed kid’s that stutter and a theater camp that who’s goal is to help them with their stuttering.  The camp is called Our Time and a good friend of ours sends her son to the camp.

I digress.

We watch TV.

We drink coffee.

We watch TV.

Then.

As per our plan we get up and start prepping to take down our Christmas tree.  We’d agreed to do it last weekend.  While we were sitting on the couch Adam devised the plan for the day.  We’d do some general straightening up.  Then we’d take everything out of the trunk that serves as our coffee table.  (These things are the tchotchkes we have that have been displaced by Christmas.  During the rest of the year the trunk serves as storage for Xmas.)  Once everything is out of the trunk, we’ll pull out all of the boxes for things in the apartment that stay in the apartment.  (Most of it goes to storage).   And THEN, we’ll go to our storage facility to get the bins that 99% of our Xmas decorations go in.   And THEN we’ll actually start taking down the tree.

So we do everything above.

In the course of our doing things he noticed that the paint on the wall of the foyer was getting worse.  The leak from the upstairs apartment has been back and gradually we are getting that running paint, peeling off the wall thing.  So he looked closer and the wall was wet.  FUCK.  IT’S REALLY BACK AGAIN.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.

What can you do.

So.

We go get the storage bins.  And we get them in the apartment.

And I don’t remember why Adam went to the closet but he did.  And he reached up to get something on the left hand side and he was bitten by a snake.

Psyche.

Actually he discovered that the ceiling in the closet was leaking.  Not just wet but was actively leaking.

And not a drip.  drip.

But a dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdrip.

Hmmm.

He of course curses at this point so I join him at the closet.  And we realize that not only is it leaking, the entire wall on the said of the closet is soaked.  Along with four of his coats.  Our tool box.  And sundry other items.

We move everything.

He calls the super.

Our super, Victor, is hispanic.  I don’t know what kind of hispanic.  But he’s hispanic.  He talks with a very thick accent.  And he LOVES to talk.  And he has a theory about everything.  So of course he has a theory about the water.  It involves the lady upstairs and her bathroom and the tub and the this and the that.  We just wanted him to shut up and fix the problem.  He’s made excuses what could we do.

So Adam call the manager of the building.  He never answers.  Especially on Sundays.  Adam leaves a very nice message telling him that Victor the super is on it, but there is a leak in our closet.

We now do what we always do.  We ignore it and hope that it goes a way.  It never does.  But we hope it does.

By this time we are annoyed.  Adam is pissed.  I suggest that we put off taking the tree down and just watch TV.

I’m very glad we did.

Adam had to do laundry and so he pulled all the clothes out.  Separated them.  Piled them in the basket.  Pulled quarters out of the drawer and headed downstairs.

It didn’t take him long to come back.  Seems Victor was finally paying attention.  Victor has a man cave in the basement.  It’s storage room that has a pool table, fridge, TV etc. in it.  So while Adam was downstairs putting the laundry in, Victor came in to go to his man cave.  And when he opened the door, water was pouring out of the ceiling.

It’s funny how people change their views when it affects (effects?  I used to know this and now I just feel stupid) them personally.

So Adam has come in and is telling me this.

I respond by going to poop.  (Everyone does it.  Shut up.)

So I go in and sit down.  I realize the floor is wet.  This usually happens when the tub backs up.  This is a whole different problem that happens two or three times a week.  Then I realize that water is splashing me.  And then I realize that it’s splashing me because it’s leaking out of the ceiling, hitting the tub and then spraying everywhere.

I finish my business.

And then I call Adam in to tell him what’s going on.

Don’t worry I sprayed the spray so it smelled like “a smokey fireside.”

Actually not only is it leaking in our bathroom but plaster and paint have peeled away from the ceiling and are bubbling.

We go back out into the foyer and realize now that the leaking in the actual foyer is worse because now there is a huge bubble (I wish I’d taken a picture) where the water is building up between the paint and the plaster.  When I say huge it was probably a foot wide by five or six inches tall.  It was a pimple waiting to explode.

We call Victor again.  He’s still useless.

At this point we are at our wits end.  Adam is really at his wits end.  All I can do is be supportive.  It really is out of our control.  We finally calm down and order dinner and he continues with the laundry.

Dinner arrives and the guy from 4G knocks on our door.  He knows Adam and wants to talk.  Seems the leak is in the whole pile of “G” apartments from the sixth floor down.  The problem is that no one is home in 6G.  AND.  She’s old.  And her husband just died.  And Adam’s friend is convinced she died in the shower and the water is running.  We listen.  He talks.  I talk.  He turns his back to Adam and Adam gives the signal to shut him up and get him out.  So I help and he’s out the door.

All this water makes me have to pee.

So I pee.  And I flush the toilet.  Or at least I try and flush the toilet.  We find out very soon that Victor’s answer to the problem was to turn off the water lines that feed ALL the “G” apartments.

In the mean time it’s all getting worse.  It’s now raining in the bathroom.  The foyer closet is raining.  And then of course, because we think “IT CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.”  It starts to rain in the actual foyer.

So Adam moves everything off the “fireplace” cabinet.

At this point.  Dinner is over and I’m on my way to meet my friend Russ, who I know from Lexington.  That’s an interesting story for later in the week.  So I’m putting my coat on, and Adam is trying to mop up the mess in the foyer.  I keep asking if he’s sure it’s okay for me to go and he assures me that it is.  So reluctantly I put on my coat and leave.

I got home a couple of hours ago.

The rain has stopped.

The balloon in the foyer finally broke.  Luckily it released it’s water through a tiny pin hole so it didn’t go everywhere like we were afraid that it would.

The ceiling above the bathtub where it was leaking has fallen and is now in the tub.  There are wet towels all over the bathroom floor where Adam has tried to contain the flow of water.  He’s cleared out the foyer closet.  The wall in the foyer is empty.

And there is still no water.

And we have NO IDEA how it’s going to be fixed.  When it’s going to be fixed.  And how long we’ll be without water.  It’s NYC it could be off for months before anything would happen.

Here’s my prediction for tomorrow.  I’ll get up early (It’s late now) so that I’ll be up if they ring the buzzer and need to get in.  They won’t ring the buzzer

Until.

3:00 p.m.

I have to leave for work at 3:00 p.m.

This happens every time.  And every time they get mad at me because I tell them NO they can’t come into the apartment.  No they can fix something.  I’m on my way out the door they had all day.  Come back tomorrow.

This is what’s going to happen tomorrow.

All I know is that Adam’s going to be miserable at work, especially for his co-workers, if he doesn’t get to shower in the morning.  Let’s hope for Victor’s sake the shower is working.

It’s now late.  I’m not proofing so please forgive any spelling, there, their, or they’re mistakes.  And for god’s sake someone tell me whether it’s affect.  Or effect.

Built to Last.

I’ve been watching HGTV for the last hour.  I actually had a date to watch Saturday Night Live and snuggle on the couch.  We got as far as turning the TV on and someone fell asleep.  I channeled surf for a little while and then as always I ended up on HGTV.

If you haven’t done so go to HGTV and register to win their HGTV Dream home.  Of course I’m going to win so it won’t really matter if you do it or not but you might as well try.

Speaking of HGTV.  I’ve continuously told Adam that I watch it because I really love seeing the real estate shows.

ACTUALLY.

I actually watch for the hot carpenters.  Do a google image search for HGTV carpenters and BE amazed.  Who cares what color they are painting the walls.  Did someone mention built in bookcases, well get to it, show me how.  They all are hot.  They are all muscular.  They all have perfect biceps.  Teeth.  Yeap.  They are in a word perfection.

So if you need help getting your house ready to sell.  Or redoing the backyard.  Or fixing that addition that didn’t go so well.  Well tune into HGTV and they have some hottie that will show you how.

AND.

I’m not talking about David Braumstad the designer.  I’m talking about the guys who are doing the chopping, and carrying, and hammering.  Did I mention hammering.

Just google:  HGTV Carpenter Photos.  You’ll see exactly what I mean.

Here is tonight’s cutie. Channel Jimmy. I like him even more after I read his blog.  He’s a liberal!  He must be perfect.

An Apple a day!

Guess what we did tonight?  We took Adam’s tax refund and promptly went to the Apple Store and bought a new I-pad.  And why does he need want a new I-pad?  So he can read the New York Times on the bus.  As he just turned to me and said, “Oh.  This is NICE.”  He was talking about the Times application.  I should probably point out that the NYTimes was not the first thing he downloaded.  He actually sat down, took it out of the box, turned it on, and downloaded Angry Birds.  Hmm.  If you don’t know what Angry Birds is I suggest that you NEVER find out.  It’s worse than crystal meth or heroin.  It takes about 30 seconds to get sucked in and then you can’t put it down.  Adam infected me with the drug and I’ve had to fight getting it.  So now he has an 800 dollar newspaper.

Actually going to the Apple Store is lots of fun.  They have a great design aesthetic.  There are people everywhere.  There is no sense of pressure from the sales staff to buy something.  We actually had to wait about 10 minutes for someone to free up to help us.  And most of all I’ve never had a rude employee wait on me.  They are nice, and informative and very helpful.

So Adam got an I-pad.

And.

I got an I-pod.  I should say, Adam bought me an I-pod.  My 2004 I-pod died about a month ago.  I’d had issues with it for a while.  Shutting itself off.  Not wanting to start.  The battery life was short.  I’d had to re-boot it several times.  And about a month ago, it breathed a gently sigh and died.  No amount of CPR worked.  It’s now on my desk waiting for disposal.

Adam had offered to get me an I-pod for Xmas but I insisted that he not.  I was holding out hope that Verizon would begin selling the I-phone.  Which it has.  But I’ve thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it.  Except for playing music from I-tunes there is REALLY no other reason to have an I-phone.  Well that and the prestige.  I actually like my Droid.  It’s fast.  Has all the functionality of the I-phone (except music).  The only real drawback is the battery and I’m learning to live with that.  So when he brought it up tonight I relented and said, “Why not?”

So he has an I-pad.  I have an I-pod.

That makes two apple laptops, one apple desktop, one I-pad, one working I-pod, two broken I-pods, and one soon to be replaced I-phone.

Our Mac family is alive and well.

 

To call or not to call?

This week we were informed that if we were currently enrolled in our insurance program and worked less than an average of 30 hours per week our premiums were increasing, BUT we would be allowed to maintain our coverage.  IF you work less than an average of 30 hours a week and did NOT currently have insurance you would not be eligible.  This is a big change over the old policy.  Although a few people at work bitched about the increase in our premiums not much else was said.

This email arrived today from a co-worker:

Hey everyone – so as you all know, our health insurance plans have

changed drastically.  For many who TRIED to sign up, you couldn’t

because you needed 30 hrs/week average.  For those ALREADY with health

insurance, here’s something you DON’T know… your rates go up A LOT

if you stay between 19-30 hours, but if you start averaging OVER 30

hours, you can’t slip beneath that 30 hr/week mark or you lose your

insurance all together!  This means you have to average 19-30 hours a

week permanently OR stay at 30+ hrs/week permanently!

These are ridiculous new insurance policies that are being attributed

to Obama’s health plan.  This is NOT Obama, this is our restaurant  We

write our health insurance checks to “_______________.”

So what can we do?

There’s only one thing we can do… call corporate and complain.  Now

this seems like a really useless thing to even try and do, but I think

that if we can pool all our contacts from our stores all over the country,

we might be able to make a big enough stink to NEGOTIATE these

policies.  We should not have to worry about losing our benefits

simply because our corporation doesn’t want to pay.

Everyone who has ever worked at any of our other stores would have to call and

email their buddies… collectively, we know people all over the country.  If people all across the

country start calling, and complaining, and demanding a fair insurance

policy, maybe, just maybe, they will consider rewriting the policy

with a voice from their employees.

This is our HEALTH INSURANCE email thread…. this is the corporate

number: #########.  Once we get everyone on board across the

country, we should start calling in droves.  I think our best bet is

to start on February 1st.  We need to make a campaign out of this if

we want anything to change, and WE ALL NEED TO PITCH IN.  Let’s

forward this to all our friends at different stores so we can at least

put up a fight.  Let’s grow this email list across the country!

Who’s with me?!?

Followed by this email from the same person:

I’ve already gotten a few responses and comments, and I’d like to respond.  Many people have told me health insurance is the most important reason for working at our restaurant.  Many of us NEED it for specialists, physical therapy, family dependents, etc.  So please read on…

Question: Where have you gotten your facts?
Answer: I’ve had contact with both the  health line, as well as a an  employee from another store who was told exactly what I explained before.  I also called corporate to ask questions regarding a the health policy changes.  I was directed to the voicemail of a woman named Emily I believe.  No response yet.  Both the health line operator and the employee verified this: If you make it to 30+ hours average in one quarter, and you drop below that the next quarter, then you have one quarter to make it back to 30+ hours or you lose your insurance.  From then on, you need 30+ average to re-enroll during open enrollment. Essentially they are trying to legally stop coverage of their many part time employees.  Because we are a seasonal business, most of us are part-time in January, February, September and October at least!

Question: Is this a NY thing or is it all across the US?
Answer: It is company-wide, and therefore all across the US.  There may be things that differ from state to state, though I have no knowledge of this.  I do know that  health line said it’s company-wide, and I know other stores got the same letters we did.

Question: Can we send a letter to our congressman or the media?
Answer: We can most definitely write a politician, though I think this is pretty useless.  Talking to media is very much against rules, so if done, would have to be done anonymously.  This could be effective, but we’re not there yet.  In reality, a campaign to call corporate and inundate them with complaints is the best immediate course of action.  Once we get a response of some kind, we can evaluate the next logical step if anything.

***Again, please talk to your co-workers and friends.  We work in a seasonal industry, and these policies put us in a position to lose our most important benefits.  They want us to give great customer service but threaten the most basic of our needs.  So call everyone you know.  Get them on this email chain!

My two cents thrown in I sent in return:

Something to consider:

Not one person was scheduled 30 hours this week.  Even the people scheduled four shifts, and they were few, worked less than 30 hours.  In fact the only way to get 30 hours is to work four night shifts and stay till closing.  And when I say closing I mean closing.  If you clock out at exactly 1:00 a.m. you have only worked for 7.5 hours after your 30 minute break.  Times 4 is exactly 30 hours.  If you work one minute less during the week your average falls below 30 hours and Corey’s explained the rest.

As all of you know I work mostly cocktail shifts and there is NO way I can maintain that average and I’m at work till closing every night.  I’d have to be guaranteed four shifts a week, and never call in sick, give up a shift, or be bumped because it would only take a few of those to bring me below that 30 hour mark.

The new plan essentially means that no new front of house staff will be eligible for healthcare because of how we are staffed and scheduled.  As I was discussing tonight, management would seriously have to cut our staff by at least 1/4 so that we all could be scheduled 5 to 6 shifts every week.  And that’s just the night staff.  If you work only days the struggle becomes even more difficult because you work 6 or 7 hours per shift.

I do agree with Corey that although it’s being attributed to Obamacare I really think it has more to do with the restaurant’s  bottom line.  They have to kick in money to provide us healthcare and so the fewer included the better.  Which explains why our premiums are going up because there are fewer of us.   I also know that the number one reason I came back to work at here was to have healthcare.  The job loses great value if that is taken away.  I have no idea whether his suggestion and ideas will work. I do know that it can’t hurt, and trust me they won’t fire you for complaining.

What do you guys think?  Is it worth stepping up to the plate and starting a calling campaign or do we just take it on the chin because there isn’t much we can do about it?

Parenting 101

I  hit a nerve last night.  I should do more posts on parenting.

Thanks, Lemuel for saying that I would be a good parent.  I don’t for a minute imagine that I would be a perfect parent.  I’m not even sure I’d be a good parent.  I do know that I would be a much better parent than most of my family members.  I wouldn’t do drugs in front of my kids.  I wouldn’t tell them that they’ll never learn to read because they are dyslexic.  I wouldn’t let them set the rules.   I’d give them some restrictions.  I’d hug them more than they wanted.  I’d tell them I love them every day.  And I’d let them know that I wanted nothing more than the best for them.

I watch my cousin Jessie raising her three kids and sometime I just want to smack her.

And all that being said, Sarah I know it’s much easier being a parent when you are not a parent.

Which brings up a funny story.  Adam’s co-worker just had a baby.  He was born in July (The kid.  Not the co-worker).  Leading up to the birth Chris had continually bragged about how great a parent he was going to be.  How different he was going to be than the other parents in the office.  Etc.  Etc.  He was going to have the perfect kid.  Turns out he’s not.  He’s pretty much the same.  Adam gets to watch this silently across the room and then come home and tell me about it.

I know that I would be a very generous gift giver.  I always have been.  I buy lots and lots and lots for Adam.  He yells at me for the money that I spend.  That being said, I’m not trying to buy his love.  I just like seeing him smile.  I also know however, that he realizes the thought and caring behind the gifts.  He doesn’t take them for granted and if for some reason I couldn’t buy gifts next year that he wouldn’t love me less.

I don’t even know what I’m saying tonight.  It’s late.  I’m tired.  Work sucked.

So to summarize.

I’d be an okay parent, which is why I don’t want kids.  That and I’d never let them watch what they wanted on TV.  I’d force them watch hours and hours and hours of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.  Perhaps I got sidetracked a little there.

Giving kids gifts are great.  But be realistic.  And I don’t care how rich you are a new car for your 16th birthday is insane.  You know what you should get them.  A JOB.  To buy their own damn car.  There I go parenting again.

My cousin Jessie has been taught to be a parent from her mom.  My aunt Debbie.  Who is perhaps one of the worst mothers I’ve known.  Although she didn’t beat her kids often so I guess there are worse.

Karen I think it’s awesome that you got your kid a Nook.  What a great idea to promote reading in young people.  When I was a kid I was teased by my step father because I read so much.  I still read.  Might explain why I managed to get out of Kentucky and the rest of my family, many of which are truly illiterate are still there.

And my last parenting tip:  DO NOT INSTALL A DVD PLAYER IN YOUR CAR TO ENTERTAIN YOU CHILDREN WHILE YOU TRAVEL.  They are supposed to annoy you.  And it also makes them look out the window.  What’s the point of traveling across the country if all you see is Toy Story 3.

PS.  About a month ago there was a three year old who sat in a stroller the entire time the parents were eating.  The stroller was equipped with some video device that entertained her all through dinner.  I’m all for kids NOT being allowed in restaurants at all.  (I’ll tell you about my friend getting fired in Atlanta over a kid joke) but IF you are going to take your kid to dinner with you.  Then by all means let it eat dinner with you.

When is enough. Enough?

It’s December 25th.

We are up at the fucking crack of dawn.  We have to drive 90 minutes to some tiny little town where Adam’s stepmom’s kid lives.  We get to spend the morning with them.  Luckily, Adam’s mom’s family also lives in the same tiny little town so we get to spend the afternoon with them.

So we drive our 90 minutes and we get there around 9:30 ish.  In case you aren’t listening it’s 9:30.  We’ve driven 90 miles to watch someone else’s family open gifts.  Which I might have mentioned is one of my least favorite things to do.

Ahhh, the step family.

The mother:  I’m doing my own analysis but I’m pretty sure she was a cheerleader in high school and maybe college.  She is sweet and perky, with a southern accent.

The father:  He was the football player.  He loved it so much that he became a football coach for the local high school.  Based on the five minutes I spent there on christmas morning his idea of marriage and parenting is probably based on some 1950’s tv show.  Once we made our way into the house with presents, put our coats away and made our way to the kitchen for coffee, he planted himself on the sofa where he read the newspaper until about 15 minutes into present opening when his wife made him “join” us.  I don’t remember what the kids got but one present prompted the story of the father driving the car with huge headphones plugged into the wife’s computer so that he wouldn’t miss the game.  (1.  It’s illegal to drive with a headset on.  2.  If you are traveling with your family then perhaps you might want to engage with them?)

The son:  Clearly the favorite.  Is adorable.  And sweet.  And I hope he grows up gay to piss off his father.  He’s 2-ish.

The daughter:  Unfortunately overweight.  And it’s my guess that she isn’t allowed to forget it often.  She’s a awesome and outgoing, and funny, and kept Adam laughing while she showed him what she got in her stocking.  She was pulling things out and when she got to some panties, she tossed them behind her and pretended they’d never been there.  She’s very smart.  She’s 7ish.

And the reason I fill you in on all of this is:

We get there.  We get coffee.  I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate flavored creamer.  I don’t mind if it’s skim, whole, half and half etc.  but I want milk in my coffee.  And I really hate when people thing they are doing you a favor by having it.  Just give me milk dammit.  Unfortunately it’s our only option so I use it.

So we take our coffee and plant ourselves in the living room.  I should point out here that only in Texas have I seen the “wall of crosses.”  They’ll take one wall of the living room and dedicate it to crosses.  Of all types.  Sizes.  Description.  Most of them are variations on celtic crosses.  They even have stores in the mall that specialize in crosses.  One whole wall of the living room is a cross wall.  Adam’s cousin Emily has one too.

So we are in the living room.

And we are surrounded by presents.  What seems like hundreds and hundreds of presents.  The floor is covered.  And 90% of the presents are for the two kids.

Which brings me to my point.

I’m not a parent.  I’ll never be a parent.  So maybe I’m talking out of my ass and I’d be the same way.

But isn’t there a point where it’s all too much.  When I was six I would have been happy to get 1/4 of what they got.  The gifts were piled on top of each other.  In fact the father made a point of trying to build a fort around the daughter with all of her gifts.  It would have been easy to have hidden her completely.  They had no idea who gave them what.  They would rip the paper off a gift, and then move on to the next one.  The whole time I’m sitting there with my mouth on the floor that a 7 and 2 year old would even get this many gifts combined through the whole holiday, let alone in one sitting.

The thing that really bothered me was how many of the gifts were meant to keep the kids out of the hair of the parents.  The joke was made more than once, especially when the daughter opened a flat screen, digital tv that’s the same size we have here.  Like I said I’m not  a parent and I’m sure that I’d love to have a room to send them too.  But I have to think that at some point you might want to engage your kids.  You might want to watch TV with them.  You might want to do karaoke with them.   You might want to play a game with them.  Or hey.  Talk to them.  But of course that’s just me.  It’s easy to sit here with Harper snoring next to me and tell them how to be better parents.

The unwrapping started around 10:30.  We had to leave at 11:45 to go see Adam’s mom and they kids were still unwrapping gifts.  God knows how much longer it took them to get to the bottom of the pile.

We are four hours into the morning.

The rest of the day tomorrow.

So for my readers who are parents…really?  When is it toooo much?

AND….the jets lose.

I have a hard time believing that the Jets losing is the ONLY news story in NYC tonight.

Surely someone was shot.  or robbed.  Or the MTA raised the subway fares again today.  Or even the fact that it’s like -56 here today.  I really didn’t need to see some old lady reporter in some “best” fans house showing us what they were having to eat for the party.  I’m sort of glad that it’s over.  Now people at work will finally calm down.

And now.  Since Adam had none of the bottle of wine that I just finished off I think it is in my best interest to shower and go to bed praying that my head doesn’t hurt tomorrow when I wake up.

Monday in NYC.

I haven’t been out of the house in three days.  Well except for a quick trip to the grocery on Saturday.  I’m going a little crazy.  I actually had good intentions of going to work to pick up a shift tonight.  But it was REALLY cold when I got up.  Actually I woke up long before I got up because it was so cold in our bedroom.  So I made it as far as the couch, where I wrapped myself in a blanket and watched the TV for the rest of the afternoon.  I never made it to work.

Now it’s 11:00 and I feel like I’ve run a marathon today.  I’m tired and exhausted and ready for bed.  It makes me feel like a total loser because the only thing I got accomplished today was washing the dishes.

I guess there is always tomorrow.

Saturday Night.

I hate sitting down to type and not knowing what to write.  My only real new year’s resolution was to get back to blogging more.  If you check out the calendar to your right you’ll see I’ve been doing pretty well.  I’ve only missed a day or two.  Having the train ride home to think about it after work helps.  It also helps when it’s not 1:32 a.m. and I’m exhausted from lying (is it lying or laying) on the couch all day doing nothing.  Which is pretty much what I did.

Adam spent the day cooking.  He made some 45 pepper chili.  I might be exaggerating a little bit.  It did have a lot of them.  It tasted awesome but I think it was little heavy for the both of us.  I’m just hoping that I can sleep tonight.  I have a serious fear that I’m going to have indigestion all night.  He also made some VERY awesome cornbread.  The whole meal could have consisted of a just cornbread.  Of course we used a stick of butter each but it was well worth it.

And then he made a burnt sugar bundt cake with rum caramel frosting.  He made it out of the cookbook that I gave him for Christmas.  It’s called Baked Explorations:  Classic American Desserts Reinvented. I’m serious when I say it’s his favorite gift.  He made brownies from it last week.  And this cake this week.  I think he should let me look through the book for next weekends fun.

And now it’s 1:39.  Adam’s in the shower.  I just finished the dishes.  And I think it’s time for bed.  So in the name of brevity I’m going to call it a night.

Baby it’s cold in here…

It’s cold here.

17 degrees to be exact.  Which is really fucking cold.  It’s coldest it’s been so far this year.  Of course my mother would tell us to shut the fuck up because it’s 5 degrees there.

I only bring all of this up because my boyfriend actually said, “I think we should consider turning on the heat if it’s going to be this cold all weekend.”  I don’t think it helped that I kept running my frozen hands up under his shirt, “annoying” him as he put it.

The reason it’s so cold in here is because Adam refuses to turn on the radiators.  REFUSES.  Because as you probably know it’s feast or famine when it comes to radiator heat in apartments in NYC.  Without them  you freeze.  With them it’s a sauna.  He prefers to be cold.

So we freeze.

It really IS only a problem when it gets really cold.  The rest of the time it’s actually quite comfortable.

Except for our bedroom.  It’s the only room in our apartment that’s has two exterior walls.  It’s also not over the basement so it doesn’t get the heat from there either.  SO IT’S FUCKING COLD.  Some mornings I lie in bed and shiver after he leaves for work because it’s so cold.  But he’s always HOT.  So hot that until recently we were still sleeping with the air conditioner on.  We are probably the only people in NYC whose electric bill is just as expensive in January as it is in August.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this.  The moral of the story is that we’ll cuddle very close tonight and he’ll keep me warm.  Then we’ll move to the kitchen/living room where we’ll cuddle under blankets drinking coffee and watching TV.  And next Monday or Tuesday when the air starts to thaw we’ll go back to normal.

Just know that I’m on my way to take a very hot shower.  But by the time I towel off and get in bed I’ll be cold again.  And the first thing I’ll do is snuggle up close to him and giggle as he practically jumps out of bed because I’m so cold.

It makes me laugh every time.