I jumped to the conclusion that the lad re-installing our bath must surely be high. He wouldn’t look at me when I asked him questions (really exciting questions, such as “are there any cleaning products I should avoid?”), handed the under-the-house key to his colleague while staring at his boots to give back to me even though I was standing right there, and then bid a hasty retreat to his van. As I helped Amy wash her hands just after they left while tutting about high tradies, I glanced in the mirror and saw my shirt was unbuttoned to the naval.