"Did you find the paint?" I asked. The fact that my husband was in the backyard hauling the green waste container toward our field of weeds, AirPods in his ears, made me suspect that not only had he not found the paint but he had forgotten he was supposed to be looking for it.
"I found it," he said, "but it's behind the patio furniture."
Of course it was. A month or so ago, I had excitedly ordered new furniture for our patio, just in time for the rain to begin. January and February had been dry. I should have known that as soon as I ordered the furniture it would start to rain, rendering my lovely new furniture useless. And so it had sat, still wrapped up in its boxes in the overflowing garage, waiting for fair weather to return.
"Do you want to put it together?" my husband asked.
I did, but I looked dubiously at the sky populated with dark gray clouds.
"Why don't you check the weather report again," he suggested.
I ran inside to grab my phone.
"Cloudy. Ten percent chance of rain. Do we risk it?" I asked.
We did. The next few hours were spent slicing open cardboard, studying directions, and lining up holes to insert bolts. Fatigue began to set in, but each new completed piece renewed our determination to finish the task. Finally, the last bolt was tightened and the last cushion slipped into place. We stood back and admired out work.
"So, about that paint. . . ."