TO CHASE THE GLOWING HOURS WITH FLYING FEET

I opened the back door and beheld my husband, mop in hand, bucket at the ready, rugs and paraphernalia up off the floor, preparing to scrub. “Mmmm…” I said, “there’s nothing sexier than a man with a mop!” Deadpan, Anders answered, “Are you referring to my hair?” Friday was a halfday, due to Alla Helgonsafton and I had left the office just after one o’clock to speed home and help finish grocery shopping and getting the house ready for our dinner party, to find that during the morning, he had dusted and vacuumed and was now finishing up with the...