Above, my new felt slippers. Do they make me look bearded, and mossy? They're also a necessity, since Moscow takes "central heating" to an entirely new (to me) level: someone unnamed (Medvedev? The chap in the plexiglass dome, halfway between Reno and Rome?) controls when the heat comes on in many, many apartments across the city. Our heat, too, is in his hands, and we wish he'd hurry.
Below, another nearby playground (behind Marina Tsvetaeva's house), more views of our new home (including the only chair in the whole place, until our ship comes in), and Lula, tippin' one back on the strange coffee-themed bedding provided by our landlord.
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