There's a Lot of Bad Wood Underneath the Veneer
I made a new friend from someone's old friend last Friday. An absolutely stunning, naturally blonde "cool girl." We were talking and she mentioned a man friend, older, who really just enjoys her company. A sugar daddy who don't want no sugar. We joked and laughed and now the term is officially "Splenda Daddy," and you're welcome. I'm sitting in my kitchen floor last night. My back hurts. There is no skin left on my fingertips. Before me are the cabinet doors I've yanked off the hinges, removed the hardware, and started stripping. I got to thinking I sure could use one of them Splenda Daddies. Except, just to come over on weekends and maybe help with my house projects, or just have a beer, or maybe offer some advice. I realized, oh wait, that's just a Daddy. I need one of those. I know exactly how my father's hands got to be like granite as I do this project. And my gods, I miss that man. I wonder what he'd say of the job I'm doing...