Finally reading mandibles because nostr:npub1qny3tkh0acurzla8x3zy4nhrjz5zd8l9sy9jys09umwng00manysew95gx won’t stop recommending it and this excerpt from the beginning really hit me:

“Mom?” Willing asked quietly in the doorway. “Isn’t it my turn for a shower?” Her thirteen-year-old had last bathed only five days ago, and knew full well they were all allotted one shower per week (they went through cases of comb-in dry shampoo). Willing complained, too, that standing under their ultra-conservation showerhead was like “going for a walk in the fog.” True, the fine spray made it tricky to get conditioner out, but then the answer wasn’t to use more water. It was to stop using conditioner. “Maybe not quite yet . . . but go ahead,” she relented. “Don’t forget to turn off the water while you’re soaping up.” “I get cold.” His delivery was flat. It wasn’t a complaint. It was a fact. “I’ve read that shivering is good for your metabolism,” Florence said. “Then my metabolism must be awesome,” Willing said dryly, turning heel. The mockery of her dated vernacular wasn’t fair. She’d learned ages ago to say malicious. “If you’re right, and this water thing will only get worse?” Esteban said, taking down plates for dinner. “Might as well open the taps full-on while we can.” “I do sometimes fantasize about long, hot showers,” Florence confessed. “Oh, yeah?” He encircled her waist from behind as she cored another cabbage wedge. “Deep inside this tight, bossy choirgirl is a hedonist trying to get out.” “God, I used to bask under a torrent, with the water hot as I could bear. When I was a teenager, the condensation got so bad once that I ruined the bathroom’s paint job.” “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever told me,” he whispered in her ear.