She's begun saving used sandwich bags and used--"but still perfectly good!"--paper towels. Also, she's begun dumping the empty catfood cans into the sink to moulder. I wait until she's fixated on something elsewhere (for example, organizing her 25 years' worth of cooking magazines) and I throw away every last used paper towel and sandwich bag and then I scrub out all the catfood cans and put them in the recycling and then I empty the fetid dish drain stopper thingy into the garbage. Then I pour bleach down the drain and then I set the entire kitchen on fire.

Also, can someone with a copy of the DSM II look up whether shitting with the bathroom door open and tapping your cigarette ashes onto your dinner plate are a sign of dementia or just not giving a fuck?