your rule of thumb makes me worry some

every indian kitchen cupboard in the world?

Okay, is it just my family, or does every Indian mom have a cupboard that resembles this to some extent? I'm always curious, though- where in the world do they get all those glass containers? Because I know my aunt did not buy them. Homey don't play that, for sure. My brother and I were visiting some family over the holidays last year, and we took one look at this pantry and knew it had to be documented. Maybe I will take a picture of my pantry soon, and you can see how badly I have veered away from the aunties of my ancestry. It's scary.

I got something annoying in the mail yesterday. I can describe it as follows- imagine if every guy you approached in a bar turned you down, and this creepy old dude that was clearly stoned out of his mind and slurring all of his words kept tapping you on the shoulder and asking you out. Something like that. Sorry. I'm not trying to be coy. All the details will follow, in time. But it's one of those things that you need to post either as an entire chapter, fully explained and narrated, or only as vagueness. And since the chapter is unfinished, it feels like the story would lack something right now.

The door to my apartment has two locks, and it is always very obvious when someone else has entered the apartment, because they don't turn the bottom lock into the same position as I do. When I got home last night, sure enough, tampered bottom lock. I figured it was my landlord- he has been calling me to tell me that he thinks I might be forgetting to turn the sink faucet off all the way. He tells me this because, beneath my apartment, in the hallway, there is an occasional leak through the ceiling. He never seems to notice that this leak always springs up when it is raining outside, and at no other time. Nope, instead, he always thinks it's me and my crazy water antics. The last time he left me a message about this, I left him a note in return telling him he could come check the apartment out to make sure I was not turning the place into an aquarium, and while he was at it, maybe he could fix the radiator, since I haven't had real heat in my apartment for, oh, a year. Of course, I didn't write anything so clever as that. He's really quite a nice old man. Evidenced by the fact that, when I returned home last night, awaiting me was a toasty warm radiator, almost fully functioning. It will never be completely functioning, because it is from the land before time. But it works well enough now that I don't have to turn on two space heaters to keep my apartment tolerable. And that was enough to cause my evening to end on a pleasant note.

I want to write a diatribe about COX-2 inhibitors, the congress passing tort reform legislation, and the asshat at Harvard who says women may just not be cut out for science, but it all makes me so angry that I lose my ability to string words together into a sentence.

On a happier note, the new Chuck Prophet single, Pin a Rose on Me? Sweet serenity.