Crash and the Boy bought a pad for the 'fridge labeled "All Out Of" and with a list of things you might need. They are taking no chances while I'm gone that they won't be able to find the scrap of paper I usually tack to the cabinet for the shopping list.
I'm typing this at the island in my brother's kitchen, eating a marvelous blueberry scone and drinking my tea. Barnacle Boy is wrapped around my waist. "How are you managing your separation anxiety?" inquires Crash. "You don't love her as much as I do!" slings the Boy back. "I'm just enjoying her presence from afar. Where I'm not restricting her airway..."
Five minutes later they are both wrapped around me. I leave in an hour.