Following a recent conversation of ours, I dolled up her long and narrow pillow in her absence. I pulled a pair of her underpants over the bottom, placed a pair of her earplugs next to each other on the top, and added a roll of toilet paper just under them. Although somewhat small, this is a perfect if inelegant effigy of a rubber doll. When she returns home, she will spot it at once. And she will burst out laughing, no doubt. The only trouble with this bit of innocent fun is that I cannot remember how and why the pitiful subject has ever come up in our conversation.

Addendum (October 1, 2011)

Oh, how she laughed and laughed! And I with her. “Tracey Emin is a dwarf by comparison with you,” she repeated a few times amid guffaws. Indeed. The rubber doll turned out to be a great success in our merry household. What else could I ever hope for, anyhow? But I will keep mum about our lovemaking in the wake of her discovery. Not a word! Except that the poor doll got battered out of recognition in no time. Minus the underpants, which stuck to the pillow as if for dear life.