I make all my best jokes when no one is around to hear them

I spent most of my day out of the house on a dentist's appointment and surrounding errands, but I managed to purchase a dish drain and a heavy-duty extension cord so that I can now dry dishes without wasting paper towels or worrying about cat prints and actually use the indefatigable toaster oven of Leonard Street. Both of these factors significantly improve my relationship with the new kitchen. derspatchel inaugurated the toaster oven by making grilled cheese with English muffins and ham. I'm thinking it is nearly corn pudding time again.

The mail brought three bills and my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #56. I am very pleased that my poem "Ghost Ships of the Middlesex Canal" appears almost as a postscript to Mat Joiner's canal-haunting "The Drowned Carnival," alongside ghostly, bloody, mythic and futuristic work by Tim L. Williams, Jennifer Crow, Erik Amundsen, Beth Cato, David Ebenbach, Alexandra Seidel, and Patricia Russo, among others. It's the thirtieth anniversary issue. The back cover features a memorial portrait of Sheeba, the editor's beloved black-and-white cat whom I was lucky enough to meet in 2004, and the opening Reisepass ends with an appeal acutely relevant in this political season: Resist othering.

Speaking of: some of the new neighbors watch Donald Trump on TV. This was before the debate started. Rob took his laptop into the kitchen so as not to hear it through the windows (which the neighbors leave open while blasting the volume; I can't identify any of the shows they follow, but they are so shouty that I don't want to watch any of them). I hope they're doing it for purposes of disapproval. The idea of any real equivalency between him and Hillary Clinton would be funny in literature, is frightening in real life. Reading the media expectations for tonight's debate was an illustration in two different kinds of grading on a curve. Clinton had to present a coherent intellectual and political argument while presenting within a narrow definition of sympathetic femininity, simultaneously consistent and complete. Trump had to refrain from obvious racist slurs and not pick his nose on camera. (And even if he did that, I am sure he has supporters who would praise his alpha-male disregard for the prissy restraints of so-called civility, like not shooting people who disagree with you.) My mother does report that she thought Clinton did well. My father wanted her to be more ferocious with Trump. I need to change my voter registration this week, having moved within Somerville since the last time I sent in my form. I have no idea if my vote will make a difference, but this is not a year to sit the election out.