I’ve been busy aat work. So busy, in fact, that I had to put in quite a few hours this weekend, all morning on Saturday and just a few hours on Sunday (today). So I’m feeling a little crunched for time.
Still- there are things that need to be done before I hear even MORE people whisper, as they walk past our house, “Well you know, the cobbler’s childen have no shoes, not even Crocs”
So, even though I’d like to be laying around reading chic-lit or primping the garden (you know, the fun stuff you want to do, not the tough stuff you gotta do), I’m up on a ladder pulling and pruning the Virgina Creeper off the roof of the house. We’ve decided that it can grow up to the soffit, but needs to be stopped before it takes over the fascia and roof.
So, I’m up there- in a sun dress and old pink cowboy boots. Earwigs crawling up my legs. And my dapper husband comes out looking like he’s ready to take the town.
Him: ” Hey, I’m going shopping, would you like anything from Pier 1?”
Me: “Oh, gosh. How about a papasan and something to smother you with while you sleep”.
To his credit, he DID ask me if I wanted to go with him. But I was already covered in little pieces of Parthenoncissus confetti- in my hair, on my clothes and on me.