Two Types of Closure

We finally have some closure to the paint, paint, everywhere story. Earlier this week Riley came running into the bedroom early yelling "We forgot to take the Chair!" She had arranged with a friend who uses a different trash collector that we do to have the paint covered chair hauled to the dump. The truck was coming, and we hadn't taken the chair over. I stumbled up and into the wreckroom to help her load it into the car. To pick it up, I had to shift the jogging stroller than was leaning against the wall; it promptly rolled over my toe and ripped my big-toemail in half. I hurt like blazes all day, until I glued it back together with the crazy glue that I usually use on the Maestro's dollar-store-instruments. Now it's only tender. Closure.