More fashion direction: I was wearing a nice skirt and top while we were out, for the first time in maybe a couple of months. But I peeled them off on coming home. I was planning on heating and eating some of that beef and pork biryani I made the other day -- delicious, and loaded with Indian spices of high stain potential. In anticipation of the possibility that U might join me in a bowl of stew -- literally -- I got down to underwear.

Ulysses found the clothes in their pile on the floor and picked them up, crowing in what seemed a delighted triumph. He waved them as he walked about. Then he noticed I was putting on an old T-shirt and shorts. Displeasure clouded his features. Unhappy sounds came out of his lips. He ran to me, holding the skirt. He held it out with both arms and pressed it against me, as if he were trying to dress me with it by applying it with pressure. It didn't go on. He started to cry, bitterly.

Maybe I should re-examine my standard wardrobe.