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I had forgotten what a slob Erik is in the bathroom. Fortunately my feet are bare, so there is no problem crossing over the swamp that he has turned my bathroom into. My bathroom. Well, it is my bathroom, inherited from Dad, and I suppose sharing it with others makes it our bathroom. Our living room. Our kitchen. Our house. Nope. Doesn't quite work. At least he has left plenty of hot water for me, and as I do recall now, Erik, like me, is always one for quick showers. We should get along fine while he's here. While he is here. Which is to say, our arrangements with him may indeed err on the side of temporary...