A day late.

I’ve been a busy beaver, and a tired one at that, but I’m not complaining. We’ve started a project at home: painting the living room. It turns out that one of Cheryl’s coworkers is a bad influence. Painting has always been something Cheryl wanted to do, but I’ve always been able to sidetrack her. Now, she spends all day with someone at work who has painted her house more times in the last two years than my parents have in twenty five. How can I compete with that? What can I say, I’m a product of my upbringing.