This morning, my husband was in and out of the garage and our office, painting some furniture for a customer. He had been sitting at the desk in the back office, taping the glass of some hanging lights to prep them for painting, when I reluctantly decided it was time for me to get back to work myself.
Not long after I left the room, I heard my husband loudly calling my name, then “Hurry! Come quick!”
I sprinted across the house, worried he had cut himself on glass, or spilled paint, or started a raging chemical fire (hey, this is my husband we are talking about. Anything is possible when left unsupervised).
I dashed back into the office, and he was sitting sideways in the chair to face the fan he had placed on the floor. His hair has gotten a bit long since his favorite barber left, and he had taken off his baseball hat.
“Look,” he said again, majestically pointing to his head and his hair flying in the wind from the fan. “I look like one of those Pantene commercials.”
I burst out laughing. He just looked so damn proud of himself. How can I not love this goof?
Sweat & Sparkle 