I am moving from one room to another in my parents' house; from the basement room at the bottom of the stairs to the upstairs room that is now used for painting, which I am to be sharing with Steve and John Powell. All the bulk stuff is moved, but it's boxed and piled in the corner, and nothing is arranged. I'm looking for a Sharpie so I can mark some stuff. Timmy's cage is there, and I want to mark "Tim" on the bottom of it, and I have a couple of coolers that I want to mark "Fritz" on the bottom so that I can put them in the garage.

I think maybe I should have my own room. Isn't there another room that is available?

I guess Brandt has moved into the room where I was, and I go down there to find my little square bag of toiletries. I am wearing only a bathrobe, and he compliments my appearance. I'm thinking my butt is kind of big. I start to ask him if he's seen this bedtime kit, but before I can get even a word out to describe it, he says yes he's got it, and runs downstairs to get it, but doesn't return.

Solomon is crying, and he's at the top of the stairs. He's stinky, and it's immediately apparent that he's got messy pants. I'm calling to mom in the kitchen, and she asks me to take care of him. I try, but the mess is escaping and it's unmanageable, and I'm just dobbing with toilet paper, which isn't helping.