I got the email from Monkey Man's teacher last night. He left the note on his desk, and apparently they aren't utilizing the clothespins until Friday as a trial run.
And last night, at 10:30, as I lay dozing on the couch, I heard the top of the garbage can slam outside the kitchen window. And in walked my husband, clutching my song list.
Now if crawling into the supercan to get a smelly list isn't love, I don't know what is.