Mr. Troutbend and I share a walk-in closet that isn't huge, but it's nice enough. This fall I noticed that some of his clothes had crossed the dividing line into my territory. And he had a bunch of boxes of his stuff on the floor of his side so he couldn't walk very far into his part, which is probably the cause of the encroachment. This is the sort of thing that needs to be nipped in the bud, because next thing we won't be able to get in there at all.

There is a charity pick up tomorrow, so we agreed to sort out some clothes to donate. I came up with lot of things - mostly dressier outfits that I wore to work when I had a job. His contribution was a few short-sleeved sport shirts, but didn't put much of a dent in the closet situation.

So I dove in and helped him go through his side in great detail. Sometimes it's easier for someone else to do that kind of thing because they won't stop until it's done.

We came up with some sweaters he wore 40 years ago, keeping two of them so he wouldn't feel he'd sacrificed deeply, and donated the rest. Some of them got thrown away. I discovered several shirts he didn't know he had, which he was pleased to pretend he'll wear bowling.

At the current level of clothing, he could put on a clean shirt every day, and not have to do laundry for more than a year.

Some of the tee shirts are collectors' items: they commemorate various Super Bowl games and casinos that no longer exist. He's got a hand towel from the first game at Denver's Invesco Field: the Denver Broncos vs. the New York Giants. It was on September 10, 2001 - the day before 9-11. Well, of course he can't part with that.

I found my jewelry box where I'd hidden it. Oh there it is! Don't worry, I'll put it somewhere safe and forget where that is.

It has been more than a year since Las Vegas has had freezing temperatures, and none in sight. Our roses still flourish.