I Stopped Reading Social Justice Books for Fun Because I Was Getting Too Riled Up and I Already Spend My Whole Day at Work in a Rage Over Injustice.

We’re trying to find a place for a new plant. Someone who saw us carrying it out of the home where we were attending a wedding open house told us it was a Norfolk Island Pine. The host had to send it home with us because it was a gift from an ex-friend and his new wife did not want it decorating her home. Our living room is small and every corner is full of either bookshelf or chair or piano. Trying to set it near the table along the wall isn’t working because it sticks too far out into the room. Our dining room is lined with heat registers of death that put out incendiary blasts of heat whenever the furnace kicks on. We’ve already almost lost our Wandering Jew to the relentless throes of the dining room heat. There is no space in the drum room for anything besides the drum set and the laundry. Every corner of our bedroom is packed with extra blankets and pillows and a basket for dirty clothes. The only thing left to try is the bathroom.