Mr. Tangerine woke me up at 4:30 this morning and said, "I smell smoke." Fortunately, the fire was over a mile away, and in a brand-new (still unoccupied) building—but enough smoke stink managed to waft in through our windows that the house still smells smoky. He went back to bed an hour later, but I stayed up.
Mr. Tangerine hasn't shaved his face in two weeks, and he's seeing if he can grow a respectable beard. (And yes, I believe this came out of nowhere. He hasn't been talking about it, hasn't had facial hair before, hadn't gone more than a week without shaving previously.) And since seeing Wordplay, he's been bitten by the crossword-solving bug. I used to have a clean-shaven, TV-watching man on my couch. And now? I have a deliciously whiskery guy who turns away from the TV and picks up a book of crosswords. It's like getting a free bonus husband, without the hassle of having to pick up after two of them at once. In my book, a good-looking man working a crossword is extra hot. (Is my book a little weird?)