The Happier, Slower Times Of Apple Crumble Pie

Morgan's birthday was in July, so this post is late. But given our mutually hectic weeks, I thought I'd bring back the happy memory. She requested apple pie, nothing more, nothing less, for her midsummer b-day, and I promptly bought a dozen Granny Smiths even though I associate apple with colder months. Turns out apple pie is comfortingly delicious any time of year. This is a fairly standard recipe except for the crumble top experiment, which involved oats, brown sugar, butter, spices, and flour, much like a fruit crisp topping. It turned out pretty well, but I still prefer the flaky crust to the crunchy. We stuck whimsical little candles in it, sang, wished, sliced, and ate with friends. It'd be nice to do the same today, rather than rush around tense from the moment the second alarm goes off at 6:45.

No, it's not that bad; it's just this morning our horrible bitch of a landlady left a nasty note r.e. our forgetting to pay rent. Now, we have never forgotten before. And we are model tenants. And we put up with her bizarre hermit-y ways and her refusal to repair anything and the ancient A/C unit. And we are stressed by the beginning of the school year. Does she call us on the first? Knock on our door to request a check? No, she waits five whole days and then leaves a mean-spirited note in our mailbox. Mind you, she lives downstairs. I swear, though we love our apartment and neighborhood, sometimes I want to pack up and go back to the impersonal, sterile, but professionally run complex we lived in last year. Yeah, that one. With the new appliances.

Okay, breathing slowly now, attempting to recalibrate for the day. I will close my eyes and remember the warm, spicy forkfuls of apple pie. I will open my novel document. I will grade papers later. I will go to the gym. I won't let her get to me.

Ooh, I could just stab one of those forks into her eye!

No, no, no. Must not.

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