Heated Towels

It turns out that my Cinderblock Castle here in Evanston is more luxurious than I remembered. The high here was 95 degrees yesterday, and as I moved five carloads up to my third floor apartment, it felt cooler outside. Later, when I took a cold shower, I was surprised to reach for a clean towel and find that it had been specially heated for my return! It felt warm to the touch, as though it had just come out of the microwave.

I cleaned up the fine layer of sugar crystals in the kitchen (left behind by my July renter), started on the dust, fly corpses, and the rest of the apartment, and finally got unpacked before midnight. I'm terribly homesick. Nonetheless, the friends with whom I've been reconnected here remind me: it's good to be back.