Ryan’s gone.  With the exception of the attic which stores the offal of my family’s collective experience and now a lot of Scout stuff, the trails he made have been largely over trodden and the upstairs bathroom is clean for the first time since Reaganomics.  This was the impression under which I operated until I took a closer look.  One still can’t open the microwave without a shiv, talons or telekenesis (I use the talons option when the cat’s cooperative) but luckily there’s a sign in Ryan’s handwriting of “Handle Broke, will fix when I get back”, the “back” to which this refers was his November (?) trip to Scotland.  His collection of 2″ x 2″ wrapping paper squares still lie under the pool table waiting to shroud a regifted spider ring or to act in concert to sheeth a pez dispenser.  And then finally, the curio filled with shot glasses.  My favorite being one that’s just a set of acrylic boobies.  Gone but not forgotten.