It was one of those almost-Vasectomy-on-the-morrow-inspiring evenings when one’s energy is sapped after facing too many hurdles, too many paternal challenges. Specifically, the regression of junior progeny to a point that I thought we’d all got past many years ago. I thought that was all over, gone, passed, accepted, signed-off. I thought I would never again have to face that magnitude of feculence in those sorts of locations again. Deposits on the person (straight after the nightly washing ritual) and then subsequent discovery of more on the underside of the rug. How did that happen? Evidently the comprehension and mastery of this area’s required skills wasn’t entirely completed to satisfaction previously, resulting in a hasty revision lesson and much laundering. And, in the cold light of day, continuing confusion as to how it got where it did. It is destined to remain a mystery.