Match made in homebody heaven

Brrr! Though the pipe in the bathroom puffs a serpentine song, this apartment is barely heated. The wooden floors only look warm; the bed only looks snuggly in its disheveled stripes.

It’s freezing today. Though I know it’s technically been colder in the last two weeks, today was the first time I yearned to hibernate. Alas, my apartment is not so accommodating. I trekked outside in sneakers this morning and felt the rapid onset of frostbite after a few blocks. My nose was so blasted by the wind that I lost all feeling and had to keep checking for surprise drainage with my cracked, grayish palm.

Today is not a day for much adventuring. At 6 p.m., I am sealed for the evening in this envelope of an apartment. I can’t say that happens often, even on Mondays. It’s just so cold, and I’ve battled a gastrointestinal menace for the last two days.

Besides a wonderful dinner out on Friday night, Cade and I spent most of the weekend cooped up, too. Our few trips outside were very productive, though. I found God at Trader Joe’s, that most glorious institution of food that doesn’t exist in Texas. I also discovered Green Plant Drink, which as sewage-y as it looks, has nothing to do with why my plumbing is messed up.

Cade and I hung pictures and watched a few episodes of the American version of The Office and huddled in the pasta aisle of a grocery store to keep warm while waiting for our pizza order to be finished and laughed and talked a lot. And we compromised: I let Cade watch a re-run of the Nathan’s Hotdog Eating Contest on ESPN. He put a grapefruit peel on his head like a yarmulke.