This scene is definitely me, in the sense that I wrote it and in the sense that it’s making use of my own slovenly habits at the time, habits that irritated Phil more than once. I could go on occasional trash-purges, but I didn’t really clean up my act on anything like a consistent basis until I met the woman I’d marry and it wasn’t just about me any more. (Even now, one must be vigilant: Janice and I cleaned out the car just recently.)

It wasn’t like Carol or I hated cleaning. We were just obsessed personalities and there was always, seemingly, something more important to do. If only we had the time.

There are some differences between Carol and me at any phase of life: she’s wealthy enough that dry cleaners are a trivial expense for her, whereas I’d get my clothes in my home washing machine, hung up thereafter, and occasionally ironed, maybe using the pros once a year for more serious stains. I guess even I could have used them more if I cared more about looking sharp and corporate, but that was never gonna be me. These days, of course, business wear has finally caught up to my sensibilities. (Also, Redbox videos were a me thing, but Dunkin was more of a nod to Phil.)

Carol’s sex life, or lack thereof, is of subtle importance here. Short-term cleaning issues aside, she has the desire, good looks, financial stability, and low-key celebrity. Some guys might be intimidated by how much of those last two she has, but there are plenty of other guys who’d be happy to help her scratch that itch, whether she became a girlfriend, hookup, or sugar mama. If only she had the time. If only she weren’t so married to her boss job.