Say rabbit.

Why we bought the house across the street and not, say, something livable is easy: it was cheap. About half of what we paid for our used truck, and with an acre-plus lot. So there we go. We bought a house I've never been inside of (evictions are underway) and one we won't live in until spring, assuming it's decent enough to fix.

Last night we made plum jam until midnight, and as I type this, twenty-four amber pint jars are glowing on the counter.

We spent the entire time arguing about how to make jam and how to tell if the jam has set. I'd say, but I don't like runny jam, and K. would say, you don't know what you're doing. It just has to get to the gelling point. Then we would try to freezer test and watch our jam fail to gel, in between glaring at each other.

K. said it would be fine. He grew up canning.

We now have twenty-four jars of plum syrup. Absolutely no thickness whatsoever.

Not really how I wanted it to go.