I'm sorry to read that Susan WYSIWYG is ill. She seemed happy and contented to be settling into their new place, and even with help she will be grounded for quite a while.

MG's remark about being the Commandant made me think. Of course, it was not the Commandant's inspection that really mattered; it was the Sergeant's far more searching penetration of every cubic centimetre of living space, which preceded the Commandant's appearance. Having spent my military time at the bottom of the food chain, I knew only the stress of keeping one step ahead of the Sergeant.

That said, I must also point out that the Sergeant's idea of How To Live was a revelation to me after growing up with my mother the proto-hoarder. The glistening linoleum of the barrack floors and the wonderfully predictable array in the hospital linen closet were restful; they meant regular care by thorough people and a sweet absence of nasty surprises.

So I guess I come by my perfectionism honestly. I just wish I wasn't the only neatnik in the house!