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There is irrefutable evidence for the civilizing effect on a man of having women in the home.  I was up early this morning to make scratch blueberry pancakes for Susan and Bre (The Joy of Cooking, p. 234, et. seq.), followed by a thorough cleaning of dishes and countertops and all manner of general tidying up.  When Susan is away for weekends and I find myself at home alone, dirty dishes and clothes pile up with impunity until everything is madly triaged in the last hour before her return.  God help mankind if the women ever leave us for good.

Speaking of women, I am thoroughly enjoying Gillian Flynn’s latest novel, Gone Girl (Crown, 2012), for many months near the top of the bestseller list.  As I strive amid the throng of authors yearning for recognition, I sometimes wonder why one book sells millions of copies while another languishes in obscurity.  Then I read a book like Gone Girl and realize, “Oh. That’s why.”