We own no saucers. It’s not a particularly profound fact. It just means that when you are sick and I bring you tea and a chocolate cookie, I have to bring it on a paper towel. If I have remembered to buy them, that is.
I don’t mind very much. Nor do I mind leaving the bathroom door open while I shower, so that hopefully the steam will warm the bedroom where you are napping. Who knows if it helps? Maybe I’m just letting cold air into the bathroom.
I’m not an HVAC specialist. In my non-scientific opinion our apartment is small enough that we should be able to heat everything with the leftover birthday candles. The ones I keep in the one functional drawer in our kitchen. I’m not complaining though. We’re lucky to have the drawer. This is New York City; we’re lucky to have the kitchen.
However, despite their abundance, small, drafty, saucer-less apartments are not native to New York City. If you were to move to say, Paris, you would find them. Not that you are going for certain. Nothing is ever for certain anyway.
That’s why I don’t understand people who promise “forever.” Nothing is for certain and also nothing is forever. So, I would never promise you “forever.” And you would never ask me to.
But I promise, for now, I’ll bring you tea when you’re sick. I promise to try very hard to remember to buy paper towels. I promise not to make you promise to stay. Also, I’ll look around our small, drafty, apartment for a space to store a saucer.
I’m pretty good at finding things. If you were to move to say, Paris, I would find you. Not that you are going for certain. Nothing is ever for certain anyway.