After a stressful day yesterday, the Landlord, Matty, and I gathered around the fireplace to relax and burn the Landlord’s piles of old, unopened mail. The fire was a welcome addition to our normally freezing basement, and it was great to sit back and enjoy the night as the fake credit cards, plasticized promotional mailers, and glossy envelope inserts burned brightly. While the peaceful stupor that overcame me may have actually been a reaction to the toxic fumes, I’m not going to complain. I’ll take my happiness anyway I can get it.