He likes to listen to Jack Benny in the car. He likes small places, is fiendish about cozy. He likes to keep things as they are. He cannot let go of anything. He is bad that way. And sometimes in others.

Sometimes I cannot sleep at night. If I could sleep I am sure everything would be okay. I packed the down comforter away, thinking it was the culprit, thinking it made me sweat. Later this act made me feel foolish. But I did not know. Sometimes I wonder why we are so unkind to ourselves about the things we do not know.