Having searched unsuccessfully for my old sloppy-weather golf shoes for the 30+ days we have lived in our charming rental house, I forced my husband to go through all the boxes in the basement and closets again. He finally found them in a box marked “Fragile-front hall mirror” (written in his handwriting, I might add) and proceeded to do that guy bragging thing until I threatened to harm him. That box also contained some files I was looking for and my garden clogs. Another successful day in “splitsville,” (not our marital state but our temporary home.)
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