I married a boy.
I don’t mean a boy-boy.
I mean a man-boy.
You can find the evidence in the linen closet.
There’s a shelf of light bulbs surrounded by boxes of batteries.
I’m not talking cup-size when I say I found handfuls of As and AAs and AAAs and Cs and Ds.
Slowly over the years, the toilet paper and tile cleaner have been shoved aside for my man-boy’s toys:
- Garbage bags colored white, black and green in small, medium and large
- Five kinds of dental floss
- Electrician’s tape, masking tape, duct tape and cellophane tape
My husband’s peccadilloes run the gamut from floor cleaners to handiwipes.
We even have a hot iron–just for his skis.
His play-things take up a fraction of the space I oversee, so I can’t complain.
I marvel at the gems that catch the Silverback’s eye when he’s unleashed in the hardware store.
I guess you just can’t have too much gorilla glue.
9 April 2019
Image from http://www.wildlife-animals.com
Today’s blog dedicated to the Silverback