"Steeeeeely" Gray

One of the perks of living in a suburban neighborhood is the ability to jog without worrying about getting hit by a town-car or falling on your face because of severely uneven pavement.  D and I woke up Saturday morning and jogged through our neighborhood and out towards the new developments.  I was trying to figure out what deluded glue-sniffer thought it necessary to name two parallel streets "Camby Park" and "Damby Park", when  we rounded the corner and passed the neighborhood playground.  On the way back we decided to go to Home Depot when we got home, to pick up some paint.  We (meaning "I") had decided it would be a good contrast to our blood-red leather couch to accent our living room and dining room walls with a "steely gray" or as D says (over and over...) "Steeeeeeely Graaayy".  Off to the Depot to get supplies for our many "projects" we had listed for the weekend.

One of which was kindly "asking" D to clean out the kitchen drawers he had filled with all of his man-tools.  The drawer I had designated for my cookbooks and ladles had become the junk-drawer equivalent of a tool box.  So I made him a deal; I would buy him a toolbox and he would put his shit away.  

Sunday night, after the gray paint dried and my cookbooks were safely in their proper place D and I laid back and enjoyed a job well done.  Sprawled out on the couch with D's eyes fixed on the TV while mine looked around the first floor of our house plotting over what could be painted next.