That tipping website has a tip guideline for contractors. Yeah? No.

Okay, monumentally weird. Tim's looking for pictures of his mom for the slideshow the funeral home puts together (that's not the weird part), and so he goes looking through his wedding album (that's somewhat weird, but whatever), and then finds an album with pictures of trips he and his ex-wife took, and they took a trip to Mendocino.

Mendocino is where he and I went a few years ago, as our first big trip together. I really really don't remember him saying at the time that he and his ex went there, because I probably would have suggested we go somewhere else.

But, okay, we took a trip to the same place. That happens. He didn't tell me about it (or I don't remember him telling me). That happens.

The B&B where they stayed? SAME EXACT PLACE WE STAYED.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Also, naughty pictures of her turned up. DUDE, THROW THEM AWAY WHAT THE FUCK.

I'm not jealous, I don't have any fear that he wants to get back together with her, but WHAT THE FUCK. I'm trying to be all supportive because his mom died, and I'm grieving too, and WHAT THE FUCK.

I have no impulse control, so I want to talk to him right now about WHAT THE FUCK DUDE THROW THEM AWAY, but I know this isn't the best time to Have A Talk about OH MY GOD WHY DO YOU HAVE THOSE.

Jesus Christ. All those creative expletives listed upthread? Picture me screaming those right now. But internally.

Ouch. What the fuck, indeed.

I have a migraine and the only thing making a dent in it is percocet (which is also making me itchy; all drugs must hate me), and I'm thinking, okay, I have a nice cold chardonnay in the fridge that would go great with the narcotics because wow, do I wish I could un-see all that.

And I wish that my boyfriend didn't have a box of photo albums of his life with his ex-wife. Including WHAT THE FUCK THROW THEM AWAY.

My sang-froid, supporto-gal demeanor? GONE RIGHT NOW.

Damn, Teppy. Definitely not the time to talk about it, but it is conversation to save for later.

Ouch indeed. Though given that he's a packrat, you've said, not surprising he hasn't gone through stuff and gotten rid of it, maybe even realized he had it. But now would be a good time to say "oh, didn't realize I still had those! Where's the shredder?"

Yeah, did you say he has aspergers? At any rate socially clueless. He will have no idea there is anything wrong with this until you tell him, and yes you have to wait until an appropriate moment to tell him. But one of the downsides of living with someone with really poor social skill. And I know this sort of thing is inconsistent. Not poor 100% of time.

Yeah, did you say he has aspergers?

ADD. And he's actually fairly socially clueful, which is why I'm so very WHAT THE FUCK.

Ah. Yeah not the same thing. Sorry, I was hoping I could help by attributing to something clinical.

Nah, it's cool. I wish I could attribute it to cluelessness, too.

(Also, I am not going to mix booze and pills. Though it's appealing.)