I gathered up all my work clothes just before dinner last night and dumped them on top of the wash machine. I didn’t put them in the wash machine, as many sane people would have done, because the machine’s in a little alcove just off the dining room, and who wants to listen to it go chug-chug-chug while they’re eating dinner? Not me.

We had a tasty red wine with dinner, and then we had just a little more after dinner while we petted the cats. Always a pleasant way to enjoy wine.

After I cleaned up the dinner table, I joined My Darling B on the sofa and talked her into watching the last five episodes of season two of The Big Bang Theory, which only took two hours, give or take. Aaannnd we drank the rest of the wine. It was ten o’clock when we finished and we were feeling a little loopy, so we went to bed.

When I got out of the shower this morning and made my way into the dining room to grind the beans for the morning pot o’ joe, I noticed that all my work clothes were in a great big wad on top of the wash machine. Now how did those get there? I asked myself. B wouldn’t have taken them out of the drier and wadded them up like that, but how else would they have gotten that way? I’ll have to have some words with that girl. The voices in my head went on like that for quite a long time before I remembered that I couldn’t remember ever putting them into the wash machine in the first place.

If I could remember the name of that wine, I’d warn you off it.