I spend a lot of time making excuses for men who disappoint me, and I'm tolerant for a while. I contain multitudes, I expect people who get me will be similarly complex. Anyway, ten minutes ago I dial a familiar number, half-expecting to rouse him out of bed and remind him we have plans tonight only to discover that he is at the grocery store, buying food to cook us dinner, just like he said he would, on his night off. And I thought I would do that! (The shopping, not the cooking.) So now I have a half-hour to kill, with nothing to do but take pictures of my outfit* for my mother. Ain't life grand, and best when you least expect it?