I need four walls around me to hold my life

There is a load of painting supplies in the boot of my Sweet Lady’s car. This does not bode well for watching the game on Sunday. And by “watching the game” I mean “pissing the afternoon away in a Starbucks.” There will also, of course, be no games since all professional sports are now on hiatus due to contractual difficulties. True, there are historical reenactors playing baseball, but that’s just for the geeks.

The rest of us are instead painting bathrooms. With the wrong colors, apparently. Tallulah wanted “Ginger Root.” We picked “Bone Folder.” Chaos has ensued. I used to worry about how to deal with the boys who would come to date my daughter. I am now more concerned for the boys who will come to date my daughter. Or girls, but the early voting is a bit negative on that one.

Be that as it may, the time is coming when that one will need to get a bit more handy around the house. These walls are not going to paint themselves, and since her 4 year old self got them into this mess, her 8 year old self should be getting them out. Unless her parents do it. Which we will be glad to do, for a parent’s love knows no bounds. Plus we are tired of looking at these nasty ass walls.