I am sitting on my soft, worn-in couch with my nose buried in a book doing research on art plundered during the Nazi occupation in Europe, and am finding myself unbelievably content. This research happens to be something I’m very interested in, but the comfort extends beyond that: I have a delicious bowl of chili sitting before me, wafting spicy scents toward me. I have a big, cold glass of milk, and a crumbling, buttery biscuit. On the whole, all of the food was inexpensive. The one pot of chili will likely feed Scott and I for a week. It is quiet in our apartment, making it very conducive to productivity.
Savoring the little luxury of this evening. Keeping it close to my heart, for posterity.