Sharpies come in a variety of colors and sizes. Ever since I can remember, there has been Sharpies. My dear departed Aunt Betty used Sharpies all the time, I think she signed every greeting card with a colored Sharpie.
I have a collection of Sharpies. I use them for writing on storage/freezer bags, markers for my veggie gardens, and yep- sometimes greeting cards. We also use them to mark measurements when working on home improvement projects.
Recently Mr.E and I have been reworking our deck and patio. What started out as a simple project has evolved into a massive outdoor renovation, complete with a huge Pergola, where hopefully/eventually, Mr.E and I will relax with our favorite beverages and enjoy our own little private oasis. The problem is getting from point A to point B. Mr.E and I have a history of much drama, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and other unpleasantries when it comes to home improvements. I find this ridiculous, since we've tackled many projects together, and we are both quite capable. I have visions of these things being fun, if we'd only let them. Mr.E doesn't share that view, he says it has something to do with his being a construction worker, much like a mechanic doesn't like to work on his own car.
Last night, Mr.E had a glass of sun tea sitting on the deck railing. Unfortunately, it got sideswiped by a 2x8 and fell to the ground. Pieces and fragments flew everywhere. Mr.E was cursing about his glass getting broken...but it wasn't broken. It had fallen on a hot pink Sharpie that was laying on the deck. The pieces were plastic from the Sharpie, not glass. We observed a large pool of hot pink seeping into the newly painted concrete. OH NOoooo!!! Mr.E is hollering and cursing, and I'm trying to calm him. I know it will eventually fade, with weather and sun. It fades off of my garden markers all the time. Mr.E hurries off to the garage for a water bucket and brush, and I hesitate mentioning to him that he is leaving hot pink footprints as he goes. He'll find out soon enough. I go into the house for paper towels to blot some of the ink up. Mr.E is still having a cow, as we are trying to clean up the mess. He went into the house for something, then came out and hollered "which one of us has ink on our shoes? it's all through the house!" Me: "are you frickin' serious?!" He checks his shoes, and he still has a little bit of hot pink on the sole of one. I look at my shoes, and one shoe has a lot of pink ink on the sole. Even worse, the hem of my jeans had picked some up. Since i'm a bit on the short side, my jeans usually are dragging the ground part of the time. Mr.E is more worried about the deck and patio than the house, so i go inside and work on that. Luckily, we don't have carpet, or things would've been a lot worse! The inside floor is now cleaned up, the outside will fade with time, and the gigantic pergola is looking pretty good. Next will be a privacy fence, then good-bye annoying neighbors and ugly views!
This kinda reminds me of the time my dad was painting and the cat jumped in the paint tray, and then...
