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Long day. Tiring week. Michael is living with us as he looks for work; temporary, on good behavior, and all like that … but is living here.

Shut up, Ed.

I’ve spent the last week being terrified that we were going to relive the last few months before he moved out. Not a good time. So, to keep that from happening, I kicked Michael out preemptively. Like, “Here is a list of things you used to do. Be a good house guest, don’t do any of them.”

Naturally, he did one. So: “Do it again, once, for any reason, and I’ll tell you to pack and you’ll be out before I go to bed that night. We won’t do this again. Get some self-control.”

And he did, or he’s cleaning up after himself well enough that I can’t tell without looking harder. Good enough.

This weekend he’s bussed back to Medford to visit his sweetie, who needs him badly, I think. Three days alone with my wife! Hooray!

In other news, I wrote about 400 words tonight, for a net advance of 11 words. I hate realizing that whole rafts of words have to go away.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry