Really, it's football's fault. Whenever the season ends, I get myself into fantastic trouble. I spent last Sunday painting my kitchen a color that, in the end, I truly loathe. Its shade varies wildly during the day. For about five minutes, it's the warm amber I'd intended, but then it morphs into Pea Green and finally into a color that I can only describe as Multivitamin Urine.
I was already in mourning when I started pulling up newspapers and discovered that my stepladder, missing a rubber shoe, had gouged some 30 holes in my floor.
Message received, God. I will never leave the couch again. Be a dear and hand me the remote, will ya?