Griffin, much occupied with career thoughts these days, is now considering the world of fashion design. Two hours before attending a wedding yesterday, I went into my closet where I had set aside my best summery linen shirt for the occasion. Griffin, attempting to reboot my wardrobe, had made some alterations.

Note the asymmetrical slashing—very fashion forward. Worried that I might fall back on other shirts, he proceeded through ten shirts with a similarly whimsical Jack-the-Ripper mystique. These were, in fact, my ten best shirts; I had put them at the front of the rack as I considered which shirt to wear to the wedding. (And, my wardrobe does not overflow with wedding garb.) Griffin astutely ignored the oversize denim and flannel, the maroon corduroy, the checkered seersucker, the ink-stained taupe, and any shirts missing buttons. Luckily for the bride and groom, my little fashionista missed a duplicate oxford at the far end of the rack, so I was able to attend the wedding in something other than my Republicans for Voldemort t-shirt.

Time to go shopping. And lock up the scissors.