Oh, and I may have overreacted about the rag-bag. I waited to fold laundry till they came out of the dryer, so I could do it all at once. But then I realized there wasn't enough shelf space for all those t-shirts, so I asked Johnny if he had any ideas. He said "Put them in a trash bag in the basement, Hon. They're only rags."

But I thought--? You said--!

the Brattle Book Shop -- on their outside shelf! For $3/book! Complete! That was like three and a half years ago and they've been sitting in that bag waiting for me to do something about them ever since. Ooh, I think I smell a shelving project for Miss Prudence...

While I was still folding clothes, Johnny had the sterile balls to come in and ask me if I'd go get him a pack of cigarettes. I was wearing sleep shorts and a wife-beater tank top without a bra (don't try to picture it, it isn't pretty) and I was sweating from all the cleaning and folding, so I told him I thought he'd live another 45 minutes until his guitar lesson was through and he could go himself (honestly, I didn't use the F word). Then I started to feel bad, and I decided that if I was done folding before he was done guitaring then I'd go.

But then I opened the closet door -- right after I took that picture -- to put the shirt away, and the door fell off the track and I had to spend the next twenty minutes in there with my flowery screwdriver trying to get it level.

He's gone now, for his own cigarettes and (I imagine) a wee pint.

So I flipped the mattresses and made the bed without him.