Sometimes husbands are just mean.

We’ve been prepping and painting our house. I’ve been the sole painter – treating it as my full time job – giving us a second income, so to speak. Been working 8-12 hour days on painting days; trying to wrap things up before the cold. 

So – this past weekend Peter prepped while I painted – caulking the final side. I was painting the eaves on a ladder strapped to the roof – generously provided by our awesome neighbor across the street, who’s living it is to side such structures as we’re painting – next time, Carlos! (Turns out I love keeping my balance in high places while painting.)

(Come to find out I’m devoted to staying balanced while painting on a ladder strapped to the roof! Grateful.)

So – after about 8 hours of fairly intensive painting – done for the day – I readied myself to help with the caulking. Significantly worn out, I quipped, “I wish there was another one of me who was just waking up now, refreshed, and ready to get to work.”

Peter stopped caulking, raised an eyebrow, and gave me one of those overly knowing sardonic looks, then impishly pantomimed zipping his lips. What did he mean by that? I don’t know. But one thing I do know –

Sometimes husbands are just mean.