One of the worst things about moving into our new apartment was having to deal with Con Edison, the crappy monopoly of an electricity and gas provider, again. While living on the Upper East Side, we paid a flat amount for electric and gas to our landlord, so we were completely oblivious to all the fluctuations, especially in the summer when we’d have the air conditioning on a lot. It was a really nice perk to not have to deal with yet another bill to pay, yet another provider to gauge us for money when we have literally zero other options to choose from.

So I was pretty mad when I received my bill for electricity late last month to find that it was 25 percent higher than what we paid for the average summer bill. That made zero sense. Why would the bill be higher during the winter than during the summer when gas, which provides us heat, is supposedly covered by our rent? Our building manager told me that they pay for the gas that provides the heat, but we pay for the unit that circulates that heat through the apartment. That still should mean that the bill should be higher during the summer than during the winter. And the bill breakdown was the stupidest: it said something to the effect of, “your bill is higher than average. Three percent can be attributed to weather changes, and 20 percent can be attributed to ‘miscellaneous.'” What the heck does “miscellaneous mean?

I called ConEd to speak with one of their service representatives, who basically told me that our bill is anticipated to be higher during the winter due to using our heat. We do not pay for gas in our building, I said to him. That makes no sense. You can see it right there in the bill — electricity only. I told him the inane breakdown on the actual bill, which contradicted what he literally just said, and he insisted it was correct. “Ms. Wong, we double checked your meter. Your bill is correct. Do you have any other questions for me?” I wanted to strangle the guy.

I just don’t get how people in services roles can be so flippant and incompetent. I work in a services role at a technology company, and if I operated that stupidly, I’d be out of a job.

This year for my birthday dinner with friends, I decided for the third year in a row to drag everyone out to Elmhurst again, and this time, it would be for Indonesian food. There really isn’t any Indonesian food in Manhattan, and even if there were, it would be much more expensive than in Elmhurst. With our party of nine including tax, tip, and a lot of Thai iced teas, we managed to spend just $22/person on dinner tonight. For the amount of food we had, I doubt we could have had a cheaper meal anywhere else. That’s the thing when you organize a group dinner: you want a place that is affordable and isn’t going to make anyone feel poor after.

No one gets excited about Elmhurst, but I still do because of the variety of the cuisines and food, the low price points relatively speaking, and… well, this was my original ‘hood when I moved to New York City. So it feels comfortable to me, like another home neighborhood in my heart. Even though I’m not close to my cousin who is here in New York, he’s actually the reason I even considered this neighborhood in the first place because he lived here, and I feel like I got a more “local” experience because of that. Locals know and would consider living in Elmhurst; people who move to New York for the first time would never even be aware that it existed. And.. it’s kind of their loss because of how rich the culture is there. I’m proud to have lived there for my first four years in New York and have zero regrets.

As an adult, I’ve gradually started learning to like a lot of things I never really was interested in at all as a child or teen. These things range from oysters (raw and cooked), stinky French cheeses (I love blue cheese now!), mustard (I especially like the French mustards… American mustard is still pretty boring to me), fois gras, and now, caviar. Caviar is one of those things that I’ve enjoyed the very few times I’ve had it, but I cannot really say that I fully appreciate it enough to say, spend $120 on a little tin of it every other month. Chris took me to L’Appart, an intimate Michelin-star rated French restaurant downtown in Brookfield place, to celebrate my birthday tonight, and one of the things they are known for is their caviar selection as a course you can choose before the actual tasting menu. The French caviar was served in its tin on ice, along with four long brick-like Brioche toasts that oozed with buttery richness, and a log of different toppings ranging from whipped avocado, hibiscus-pickled cippolini onions, to a chive-specked creme fraiche.

Each bite of caviar, on a spoon made of pearls, no less, was creamy, a bit briny, and decadent. I don’t know how we as human beings decided that fish eggs would be such an expensive delicacy, but I could certainly get used to enjoying this every now and then as a pure indulgence. Who knows what nutritional value these things have, anyway?

In New York, we’re used to waiting in stupidly long lines for everything from barbecue to basic brunch (and I mean… really basic) to ramen (not the Cup of Noodle variety, no). So when I found out I had Martin Luther King, Jr. Day off, I figured.. what better way to spend the day honoring such an influential figure than strategically going to places that normally have lines, but probably won’t on a weekday cold winter morning?

Okay, so I only made it to one spot in the morning given my workout went a bit long (had to run four miles to justify the indulgence of today), and I ended up at Super Moon Bakehouse, the sister bakery of Mr. Holmes Bakehouse in San Francisco, the home of the “cruffin” – the croissant-muffin hybrid. And.. I got a little carried away since I ended up taking home six baked goods that wouldn’t necessarily be called cheap.

But the chocolate dipped passion fruit curd filled cruffin… was a piece of glory. The passion fruit curd was just a bit tart and authentically fruity. It had a LOT of curd that just oozed out. And the base of the cruffin was extremely crunchy and shattered everywhere this morning. I could easily do this once a year every year, and maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad.

It was a beautiful day.

The world really needs more kind people. We need more smart people, yes, but we also need more kindness to enable the belief that the world is really a good place full of good people. If no one believes in the world, then no one wants to help it get any better, right?

Since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve encountered many kind people… and certainly many of the opposite. But it’s the little kindnesses of strangers that make me believe in this city. When I’ve unknowingly dropped a glove on the seat next to me in the subway and someone actually walks after me to give me that glove, when someone’s told me that my backpack was open (which had my work laptop conspicuously sitting in it), when people have offered to help carry my massive luggages up the stairs that first subway trip I moved to New York with two massive bags — each time, I’ve been really grateful and happy. So when I hear people say that New Yorkers are shitty, selfish, impatient, awful people, it personally annoys me. For the most part, I look at this city as full of people who are all here to help each other; we kind of have to given that we’re such a terrorist target.

Today, our favorite handyman came to our apartment with half a bottle of one of his favorite whiskeys. He’s done favors for us when he hasn’t had to. He randomly just thinks of us when he has certain thoughts or advice he wants to give on everything from restaurants to cooking techniques to even apartment things. When I see people like him, I think, wow. We’re so lucky to have met such generous, kind people in a city that is seemingly so anonymous and out for themselves.