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Not the Cold, But the Humidity
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It's not particularly cold this morning--58 degrees Fahrenheit--but the humidity is over 90%, overcast, though rain is not predicted. I feel the cold seeping into my skin and my clothes clammy on my back. Time to turn on the heat for just a little bit. Or maybe start wearing that nice warm wool sweater.

Since N moved out, some costs of living have become much cheaper--gas to heat my home, for instance, and the electric and water bill, for another. Other costs have doubled and tripled, most notably gas for the car (mostly due to trips to the VA twice weekly).

The house downstairs is starting to look really nice. Next on the agenda is replacing the flooring in the kitchen and entryway. We looked at samples yesterday, but I need to bring my friend the expert (whom I will hire to do the work) with me to make a final decision. He knows all about durability, finish, etc. He wanted me to tile the floor, but I said no (little old ladies are subject to slip and fall, you know).

Max the Manx got himself wedged under the water heater yesterday, so we spent a while ripping apart the base of the stand on which it sits to get him out. Poor old guy is limping around and feeling sorry for himself. I gave him a few treats and put him in his favorite kitty bed to recover. Of course, like most cats, he's afflicted with oppositional defiant disorder, and immediately went somewhere else of his own choosing.

I hear the trash trucks on the next block over. Have to rush out and drag the trash bin to the street!

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