The more I write about it, the more it becomes a pathology.
Like a cool pillow.
Our sheets need washing. I sweat right through them last night. Between the cleaning
and the arrival of guests.
At least make the effort, the thought being what counts.
He’s a hermit homebody like me.
He said yesterday that he doesn’t like to meet strangers.
It is okay. 3 is not a lot.
I cannot drag him kicking and screaming.
It may be he’s just waiting for his body to be big enough to not fall into the toilet.
So it’s going to take a little limbering up to get back in the game.