Those 70ish Girls

I’m working on my she-shed and there’s still much to complete.

My body hurts already from my head down to my feet.

I have grandiose ideas. My husband says that all the time.

I’ll begin the transformation, but first I have to prime.

The boring tasks I’d rather skip but I must do the doing.

Between you and me, this shed needs serious renewing.

I’m going to paint the ceiling to match a clear blue sky.

I’ll add some clouds and birds. Boy that ceiling’s waaay up high.

I’m using our new ladder and I spilled some paint on it.

I’ll try to clean it off before someone throws a fit.

What? Clean the paint pan, brush and roller? That doesn’t sound like fun.

Why can’t I just go back to Lowes and buy myself new ones?

I have sky blue on my clothes. The can said wash with soap and water.

The paint is still on everything. I guess the water should be hotter.

If you tell someone I said this, I’m afraid I must deny it.

In fact it might behoove me to aggressively defy it.

It takes a lot of work to turn a shed into a she.

And when it’s said and done, it also takes a lot of money.