The deck really needs sanding. It's a great place to hang, and it takes up most of the not inconsequential backyard. This means I don't have to mow it, but I do have to manage a big chunk of lumber. The weather was perfect and my Protestant Work Ethic said it was time. My Inner Hedonist said that, although the deck has served her very well so far, 85 and sunny doesn't happen very often in the Lone Star state. Then she got an offer to head down to South Texas to sit on the beach and eat some shrimp and maybe, incongruously but appealingly, to take in a hockey game. IH told PWE to stop bumming her joy already and booked a Southwest flight to the Gulf Coast, stat.
IH got to eat her shrimp. She also got to spend a Saturday afternoon on a couch and watch a lot of college football, all while reading some great magazines that provided tremendous insight into the male mind. A note, girls: if you want to understand guys, read Men's Health and GQ and skip Self and Glamour. The hockey game and the other girls there--if you are a hair stylist who is out of work, Corpus Christi needs your services--gave IH a tremendous boost in self-esteem, which needless to say she enjoys a great deal. She wore her bikini, dug her toes in the sand, laughed a good deal and rode on the back of a Harley owned by a very hot guy. Did I write that out loud? Oh, never mind. It wasn't me, it was IH. And she doesn't care what people think.
Upon arrival at the house last night, PWE told IH that she'd been abandoned her post. And had she actually seen the fingerprints on the French doors, never mind the dust on the ceiling fans? And who the hell was going to do the laundry this week? As for the deck, it didn't just sand itself while IH was off having her fun, thank you very much. It was still there, and "distressed" will soon turn into "rotting" unless she gets off her sunburned ass to take care of it.
IH opened some wine, grilled a steak and turned on Gossip Girl. Monday would show up soon enough, and she still had sand in her flip-flops.