If one saw my actions today he or she would theorize that I must have gotten rid of my husband. I packed up many articles of clothing occupying a selfish share of space in his dresser (the cause of my dragon personality towards putting away laundry) for charity, as he has taken up recreational eating as a new ... habit. Versus his former one, I can't and don't complain. Well, once I did, and sometimes I remind him of the fun we used to have exercising together--running the steps of the sled-riding hill at the Euclid Creek.

I have no plans on telling him what I did and it's likely he won't notice, or care, should he notice. The missing crotch-hugging jeans from his late brother-in-law (overdose, 28) are already forgotten. The dress shorts donated to him during his stay at the Keating Center--not even a memory, I'm sure. The holiday sweater he wore once in eight years and I nearly destroyed my lint trap with--what sweater? The wife beater ironically a gift from my mom--fortunately never worn. And my favorite, the diarrhea-colored flannel missing an important button--the possible giveaway--that, he will ask about. Everything else was too small. I was hanging on to some things sentimental and others hoping to will weight loss. I opted instead for ease of putting clothes back in the drawers.

I support the purchase of supplements to the current wardrobe. Wrinkle-free preferred.