A Man and his dirty sink: it's a beautiful thing.
an excerpt

Ida had had a fun evening with her lady friends, as usual. She was somewhat miffed with Violet because Violet always got to pick the restaurants. But then that was because she was the one who always got to go to these places because her husband had that kind of job where he took people to dinner. He had to wine and dine people who were prospective customers and Violet would accompany him because the customer would always bring his wife. The wives could talk about whatever wives talked about and the men could discuss business. It seemed to work.
Ida wandered around her quiet household for a few minutes before she got ready for bed. Her husband was already asleep since he had to rise early the next morning for an office meeting. Her three children were fast asleep and had been for several hours. This was her one night a month when she did not tuck them in.
She sighed. One evening a month was her night out with the girls but sometimes these nights were not the best thing for her. She realized that tonight when she sat between Harriet and Betty. “Haughty” Harriet, as many called her behind her back, was at her usual self by talking about how her husband had won this award and that. Betty had on a new outfit which she bought at a store and it didn’t even need tailoring. It fit her perfectly.
Wasn’t there more to life than boasting about husbands or how well clothes of the rack could fit? Ida used to be an artist. No one knew this about her since she had never mentioned it and she was no longer an artist. But she had the artist’s mind and she still had the artist’s appreciation for beauty and balance. Ida’s talent was still there and it came out in smaller ways now. An embroidered pillow case for her daughter or a beautifully addressed envelope. Even her many notes left for her husband showed that artistic sense of hers.
As she sat on the radiator in the dining room and looked out the windows to the half-moon-lit night, she saw a squirrel running toward the Chinese Elm trees. Evidently that squirrel was late to bed and had to run. She could just barely make out the silver-painted wire fence that separated the back yard from the middle yard. There was a glint of moonlight all along the top wire and for a moment or two, it even sparkled. Then it was dark and although Ida continued to focus on the fence, there were no more sparkles.
Once she felt warmed enough from the radiator, she arose and prepared herself for bed. She switched on the light of the pink bathroom only after she had softly closed the door and for a moment, the light was so bright she could hardly see. The mirror was covered with a soap message from her husband. “Hope you had fun! Don’t wake me!” it said. He had signed it “Beezil.” She smiled as she coated her face with cold crème and moved her head around to get a better view between his words.
As she lay in bed, Ida still felt that there was something undone. Something left to do. She didn’t know what that could be and she didn’t understand why she was feeling like this. When she slept, her dreams were of unfamiliar places peopled with unfamiliar people.
A few days later she received a phone call from Violet.
“We’ve decided that we are going to dress up for our dinner,” she said. “Try to come up with an outfit that says ‘stepping out!’”
Ida said, “Oh, that sounds like fun. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“We’re going to give a prize to the best get-up.”
Oh, boy, Ida thought to herself. These sorts of things never seem to work out for the best. Especially when Violet is involved. But Ida began to relish choosing what to wear already and it was three weeks away.
She and Art shared a room on the second floor and the three children shared a large room across the hall. One problem was that she had no closet space but the real problem was that she had not much to put into a closet if she had the space. She had saved many of her dresses from before she was married and was working as a legal secretary. But she hadn’t worn these in years. They were packed away in the cedar closets in the basement.
Ida thought about going down there and sorting through them to see what was there. But something held her back. These dresses, and all the other things which she had packed away with them, represented another time in her life. A time of excitement and freedom and yes, artistic expression. And as she let her memory run away with her, she even remembered the train trip south with her boss for that over-night legal convention. She remembered exactly what she had worn on that trip: Navy skirt with a white blouse and red buttons, matching navy jacket and navy open-toed shoes. Her nails had been painted her usual red-red color and her lipstick matched them. Helena Rubenstein, her favorite cosmetics company had the perfect red for her.
She might go down to the basement bedroom and open those cedar closets. But she might not. Or she might wait until no one was home and the place was quiet. When would that happen? Ida didn’t know but she hoped soon because now she was beginning to remember.