The unpleasant smell brewing in the kitchen I had chalked up to the clean-out-the-crisper turkey soup needing to be tossed since we didn't have room for it in the fridge was that _and_ the trash bag waiting to go out leaking. Once Laurel was down for the night, I double-bagged the offending bag and wound up double-bagging the current bag when disposing of the non-liquid bits of the soup nearly filled a plastic grocery sack (actually three together to prevent further mess).
Having two trash bags to cart to the dumpster, Vogon volunteered to take them over for me, then returned and told me I needed to take them down to the car since I'd made them too heavy. (I'm working on not overloading them since I'm used to big curbside bins.) While he was doing that, I mopped the kitchen floor. He looked in while it was drying and was surprised at the detritus, things I'd scrubbed up and flaking paint from the mop handle, which I reacted to by explaining I'd sweep again when the floor was dry but came away feeling like I hadn't done a good job cleaning up.
Sometime after that he left with his keys and I was mildly curious as to where he'd go late at night. Right around the time I stopped wondering about that and was thrilled to make the connection that the cross-stitch map design I'm working on is heavily based on a 1630 map by Willem Blaeu, he came in with more soda (hooray!) and a few bags of things to put up, handing one to me with "This is yours, madam."
I now have three pounds of chocolate and two packages from old-home (my parents', here is simply 'home') in transit. This should be an interesting week.