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I'm actually having a generally good day today. But today's twinge came from a slightly unexpected source: cleaning out the bathroom reading. Nothing dramatic -- I simply collected all of the old catalogs that she'd put in there, and moved them to the recycling. It still got to me, and it took a while to figure out the nature of the emotion, but I eventually got it: it feels *disrespectful*. Yes, it's junk; yes, it's junk that even she wouldn't have kept quite this long. (Most of it predates The Cruise From Hell.) But still -- throwing out stuff that was clearly hers, without getting her okay first, feels wrong on a totally primal level.

There's a lot more of that particular twinge to come -- I've long since concluded that I *must* start cleaning the house and asserting control of it, if I'm ever going to own my own life. But I suspect I'll be apologizing a bit, in the back of my mind, throughout...
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