Sixteen-some years ago (give or take a few, because my simple math skills suck), I met this girl. I thought she was cute and all, but to be honest, I was a little turned off because she started hitting on me before we had memorized one another’s names. Okay, before I could remember her name (she memorized the previous year’s yearbook). For the record, her name was Candace. In any case, it wasn’t until a dare that we ended up dating. Yes, a dare. Though, let’s be honest: neither of us felt forced into it.

Last night, while I was playing with Cate before we all went out for dinner, I noticed her carrying around random articles of clothing. Dirty stuff. The stuff we cast aside before bedtime and we’re too tired to accurately hit the hamper (or even care to try). I also noticed that, hey, these things aren’t coming back! So I tailed the little monster to see where she was taking my socks.