Does anyone else find themselves playing the role of a silent janitor in their own home, just to avoid the... friction? I suppose it’s not a major issue in the grand scheme of things, but it’s been weighing on me tonight. I’m seventy-six years old, and here I am, finishing a degree I probably don't need, sharing a kitchen with a boy who hasn't learned that a sink isn't a graveyard for half-eaten pasta. This is the third time this week I’ve stood over the basin at 0200 hours, scrubbing at someone else’s neglect. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, or maybe there’s a kind of...