Brew a pot of coffee. Apply cold, and time. Drink.
In the mornings, I just pour myself a pint of iced coffee from the pitcher in my fridge and drink it while getting ready for work and things. I don't worry about making it extra strong so it doesn't get watered down when the ice melts, because I don't have ice cube trays (maturity!). Also, if you take so long to drink iced coffee that it's at risk of becoming room temperature, maybe coffee is Not For You. (That's okay! More for me!) Anyway. To summarize: Having cold coffee on demand 1) is convenient and 2) makes me feel like I am my own butler.
I'm not alone in my lack of ice cube trays. A vending machine dispensing warm Diet Coke (IT IS THE WORST OH GOD THE HORROR) at my office prompted a break room discussion with a coworker about how we have ice machines in our office freezer, but never think to use them. He confessed to not really using ice due to his lack of ice cube trays at home. It made me feel much better about life and my level of shit-togetherness in relation to that of my peers to know that he, too, hasn't yet spent the $1 on an ice cube tray. I know I can buy ice cube trays, guys, but I don't really care for ice in my drinks (it clanks against my teeth, of which I am very protective) and it's just more crap I'd have around. Let's just call it one of my last barriers to real adulthood (home ownership, marriage, buying ice cube trays) and move on.
Birchbox. It's a $10/month subscription service that sends you a box full of generous samples of luxury beauty products. They have a version for men, but as far as my world is concerned Birchbox is For Ladies. I am a girl, and I love cosmetics and things I can slather on myself. My first box came today, and I got some lip/cheek stain, an eyeshadow/eyeliner crayon, some self-tanner towelettes, a TSA-approved cosmetic bag, some moisturizer, and a sample of some man cologne for the Birchbox Man in my life. (Do you want some man cologne, Internet? You can be the Birchbox Man in my life.) It's like getting a care package from mom, if mom went to school at the University of Sephora.
The Fulton Tap Room. The man checking IDs at the door is amiable and grandfatherly, the beer is delicious and cheap, food trucks frequent it, and it's really nice to have another place to sit outside and drink beer. I'm totally charmed by it, although when I was there yesterday it did occur to me that I was sitting on a loading dock, under a freeway, downwind of a storm drain giving off a scent, Dumpster-adjacent, and within view of a trash incinerator plant. And yet! I like it. It's not fancy. You can see Target Field, and so far I have been able to get tacos to go with my beer on most of my visits. Verdict: Yes.
Google Chrome. My 2009-ish MacBook (remember those?) isn't irreparably slow! I just had to ditch Firefox. That last update was super buggy, and when I took to the interwebs my computer turned into a bottleneck. An overheating bottleneck with a really loud fan.
My brother's music. His songs are very good, and you should listen to them. Some sisters will talk up any creative effort by a member of their family. I'm not that kind of sister. Actually, knowing the artist can make me uncomfortable, because singing faces give me the heebie-jeebies and not everyone's music is A Precious Gift. So anyway, I legit like his music. It's folk/Americana/country stuff, and you will like it, Internet.
Turtle Wax. When I was home in Wisconsin a few weeks ago, my dad helped me wash and wax my car, and touch up some small rust spots, before I left. Embarrassing truth: I thought waxing was just for vanity. But dad was right; water really does bead off a waxed car and wax puts a barrier between the paint and the elements. This isn't groundbreaking, but I have enjoyed observing this beading every time it's rained since. Also now I can tell who waxes their car (me!) and who does not (AHEM, GUY IN MY BUILDING WITH ASSIGNED PARKING SPOT #7).