Bibliographic record
Abstract
Une femme obsedee par la proprete et abandonnee par son mari se decouvre une autre vie et un nouveau monde dans ses reves. see, I mean ... my problem is, well, my wife is just a cleaning nut. I'm telling you, it's driving me crazy and it's getting worse all the time. It used to be the worst of it was our furniture was all covered in plastic, like you know, you couldn't sit down anywhere and shoes--oh, shoes. You could never wear those in the house. But now! If I'm smoking, she follows me around with an ashtray. If I go to the fridge for a beer, she follows me around with a towel under it. I'm telling you, it's driving me crazy. You gotta help me. What am I going to do? Heidi pulled her head out of the oven, wiped a speck of Easy Off from her nose and turned around to stare at her kitchen radio in amazement. There was no doubt about it. That voice, whining, self-pitying, somehow shot through with vulnerability, was unmistakable. It grated on her nerves because there was something so messy about it. And now here it was, speaking at her through the radio ... speaking to her from her favourite talk-show program, Let It All Hang Out. Without rising, she crawled across the floor and quickly switched off the radio, not waiting for, not wanting to hear, the host's advice. No doubt about it. That voice belonged to her own husband, And he had been talking about her. Complaining about her for all the world to hear, for all the world ... oh, my God, the neighbours. Heidi jumped up and ran to the window. She peeked through the curtains to Maureen's house. She'd be listening, you could just bet she would and soon it would be all over the neighbourhood. What an embarrassment--worse than an embarrassment, a disloyalty. And such an exaggeration. Hadn't she said to him that most men would be proud to have a house so spotless they could bring a guest home anytime, any old time they wanted? Yes, hadn't she said that to him just two weeks ago? And he had answered, Okay, okay, but how can I bring a guy home when you treat everyone like a speck of unwanted dust? Hell, we can't sit anywhere; we can't smoke in the house. Even in the summer when it's nice, we can hardly sit in the garden without you fussing over us and worrying we'll tread a little mud onto the patio. I just don't understand you anymore, Heidi. God, the times I'd like to take your clothes off, they just seem to look back at me and stand at attention. And he had turned and walked away from her. He didn't try to take her clothes off much anymore, that was for sure. It was all right with her too. Let others discuss the vagaries of sexual passion, its tragedies or joys. Sex, to had become just another cleaning problem. She thought bleakly of crumpled sheets, dirty bathtubs, sodden towels. No, she shuddered. The less of that, the better. But still, she admitted, as she got back on her knees in front of the oven and began to scrub again, she remembered vaguely a time when the compulsion to clean was not so strong, a time when she might even have enjoyed the taste of sweat on Jack's body. But this time was so long gone, she was unsure whether it was fantasy or memory. She shrugged and set her mind back on the oven. She scrubbed with dedication and purpose and, at last, the oven glowed to her satisfaction so bright and shiny it could have starred in a commercial. She sat back on her heels and rubbed the small of her back, then stretched. There was nothing so satisfying as a job well done. Later, she could never imagine what had drawn her attention to the front door. A slight noise? Footsteps? A sense of inner breeze? Someone else's presence? She went to the front door and saw the envelope. It was addressed to her. When she opened it, the note said only, Heidi, I can't stand it anymore. Goodbye, Jack. She sat in the living room chair, looking out the window, the note folded neatly on her lap. Maureen went by walking her dog--that filthy thing. …
Fetched live from OpenAlex and de-inverted. Abstracts are not stored in this database: the inverted indexes are 8.6 GB of the frame’s 9.3 GB of text, and the host has 13 GB free.
How this classification was reachedexpand
Full frame machine prediction
Teacher imitationNot calibrated prevalence, not ground truth. Human validation pending. The Gemma side is a direct model label for every work in the frame, read from the title-only record. The Codex side is a classifier learned from the 10,348 direct Codex labels and calibrated to design-weighted sample rates; fields without enough sample support carry no Codex call. Candidate is the union of the two sides; consensus is their intersection. These outputs are machine_predicted_unvalidated and are not human labels.
Distilled classifier scores by category (both heads)
| Category | Codex | Gemma |
|---|---|---|
| Metaresearch | 0.002 | 0.008 |
| Meta-epidemiology (narrow) | 0.002 | 0.001 |
| Meta-epidemiology (broad) | 0.001 | 0.001 |
| Bibliometrics | 0.002 | 0.001 |
| Science and technology studies | 0.016 | 0.007 |
| Scholarly communication | 0.010 | 0.008 |
| Open science | 0.002 | 0.009 |
| Research integrity | 0.005 | 0.008 |
| Insufficient payload (model declined to judge) | 0.102 | 0.050 |
Machine scores (provisional)
The two teacher heads of the student model, read on this work. A score orders the frame for review; it never asserts a category, and the validation status ships verbatim with every row.
Baseline scores from an immature model (maturity gate not passed, 7 training rounds). Scores rank; they never assert a category.
score_only:v0-immature-baseline · verbatim from the scoring run: score_only means the number may rank works, and no category label ships from itClassification
machine, unvalidatedMachine predicted; a candidate call from one source (direct Gemma or distilled Codex), not a consensus.
How this classification was reached, model by model and score by score, is at the end of the page under "How this classification was reached".