It being the morning of the eve of Passover, I had a few things to do. First of all, as a firstborn male, I had to find a Siyum, which is a term I'm not sure how to translate. "A small party thrown on the occasion of finishing a section of the Talmud" will do for a working definition.

Basically, thanks to the tenth plague (the death of the firstborn), firstborn males fast on the day before Passover, unless they attend a Siyum or some other ritual feast (say, at a circumcision), in which case they can -- indeed, should -- partake of it, after which, they can keep on eating for the rest of the day.

As a result, there are Siyumim all over the place on the day in question, generally right after the morning prayers, so this wasn't too hard. Having consumed my one macaroon, I then went home, stopping along the way to buy a teakettle and immerse it, so I'd be able to have tea in my apartment over Passover.

See, that's the thing about Passover. (Well, one of the things.) You need entirely new sets of dishes and pots and stuff. It's a good thing I'm still using disposables for the most part, I suppose. Makes life easier. But the kettle was a must. I need my tea.

I ended up talking to my landlord for a change. See, my landlords are also Orthodox Jewish. They're an older married couple, and they live right upstairs. I usually have nothing to do with them, except when I pay the rent every month. Which, to be honest, is how I like it. They're nice people, but I cherish my independence, such as it is.

Anyway, under the circumstances... I called him up, and he said he'd be happy to burn my chometz along with his. So he did, making a nice big blaze in a trash can, which pretty thoroughly burned everything inside it.

Somewhere around this time, I put the kettle on, only to remember that while I had the kettle, and kosher-for-Passover Earl Grey tea, and milk, I didn't actually have any suitable cups. Oops. So much for that idea.