I arrived home before Dutch did today after my Retreat in Sonoma. I hadn't been home since Sunday night and I think I may have come home to the wrong place. The garbage is overflowing, there are dishes in the sink and a half-empty six pack languishes on the kitchen table. The toilet seat is up and a huge Ikea construction project dominates the living room floor. I feel like I have stumbled upon a boys only super-secret subterranean hideout. A smelly one.
Of course, somehow I am not mentioning the mess on/over/under my drafting table, my dirty clothes on the floor... somehow its worse when the mess isn't mine.