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Remember when my husband bought an antique wagon two years ago?

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The one he had to build an extension on our shed to house?

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The shed extension I had to paint?

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The extension he built a door on last year but never finished?

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Well yours truly got tired of staring at bare wood and picked the hottest day of the summer to remedy that.

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Painting carefully around the hinges?

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Not fun.

Painting carefully around the handle?

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Less fun.

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But even less fun than that?

Wanting to finish … but discovering we had no white exterior trim paint.

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One lousy board from completion I quit and retired to the shade of the barn porch.

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Where my husband joined me, poured a beer and told me he’s thinking about selling the antique wagon.

The one he simply had to have.

The one that’s only been displayed on the lawn a handful of times because he won’t leave it out in bad weather or overnight and it’s a pain in the *ss to maneuver in and out of the shed extension.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

But I am a little annoyed.

And full to bursting with unvocalized I told you so’s .

🥴

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