This is like what they own—although I’d imagine that, in a 18,500-square-foot house, it’s probably far more complicated.

Hot water is quite literally flowing through the pipes at all times. Turn the tap to hot, and it’s hot in a matter of two or three seconds.

I appreciate your thoughts, and I agree completely. Best of luck to you and your fiancee.

I will also add that I can heartily recommend Lynne Twist’s The Soul of Money to anyone. It’s a fascinating and enlightening read.

I do the same thing, now that you mention it. I also am much more aware of the ways in which, as a professional myself, my relative financial comfort as an adult impacts those around me who don’t necessarily have the same level of comfort. My father was always a really cheap tipper (like, 10% or less), so I’ve become…

I grew up around rich people, yes. But I was raised by parents with a mindset that money was something to be saved and withheld, not by parents who spent it to nearly the level of many, if not most, of my peers.

My parents were both professionals. I grew up in a house on a lake. At his peak, my dad owned six cars. I attended a fancy private high school. So there was that. On the other hand, my father, who was born in the mid 1930s, was a miser who repaired his shoes with duct tape and saved and reused aluminum foil. I knew I…

Congratulations on having your own work published! I’ve published in magazines and newspapers, but I’ve never gotten a full-length thing off the ground. I’m excited about this one, though—I’ve got two other complete manuscripts in the drawer, and I think this is the best one yet.

YES. I had to go to my local IKEA to buy dishes, and I freaked the fuck out until some nice employee helped me get to where I needed to go. Secret doors FTW.

I was always tall, so everyone just assumed that I needed to wear an XL. As an adult who still wears the same pants size I wore in high school, I find that a medium (or, in some cases, even a small) fits me better.

I know. It’s supposed to be in the 60s in New England tomorrow. I can’t wait...

I’m also struggling this winter with the depression that always hits around this time and the fact that I’ve been sick for weeks. UGH.

My neighbors’ 14-year-old son thinks so. He keeps texting me to ask when I’ll be done with the second act.

I just hit 50,000 words on the young adult novel that an editor at a major publishing house is very interested in reading. This is good news for obvious reasons. It is bad news because I now spend a great deal of time thinking to myself, “HOLY SHIT SOMEONE WHO MATTERS WILL ACTUALLY BE READING THIS.”

I will always star this comment forever.

I suppose I did. But I also realize with hindsight that I was absolutely trying to retreat into my clothes.

Unpresidentited?

I have a good friend who is a member of Mar-a-Lago. I can confirm all of this. The access being granted to these men and women is absolutely, completely unprecedented.

A friend of mine has been Fleetwood Mac’s wardrobe manager for over 20 years. She says they are a fantastic organization to work for—and she gets full benefits.