Slow start to the week.

Low on my list of pleasures about living alone that still ranks quite high is not having to buy new dish soap every six weeks. It's nowhere near close to being able to eat breakfast in my pajamas or lounge around and read without wearing pants, but it's still something I get reminded of nearly every time I do the dishes. And it's quite nice.

I'm now going to revel in having my own fridge and use the stovetop percolator to brew up a huge pot of black iced tea. Heat is easy enough to deal with, but humidity - especially at night - is just wrong to me on any number of levels. Sweating never does anything.