Thursday, May 24, 2012

How I Know My Husband Doesn't Listen to Me

   I walked outside early this morning to slip an empty pizza box in our concave burn pile, knowing that tonight we will be lighting it. Pizza boxes are excellent fire fodder, after all. And look what I discovered...

   An almost brand new wooden palette laying defeatedly on top of some dried pear tree branches.

   I would never have done this, you guys. not in my sleep, not while heavily medicated, not even under threat of bodily harm. 

   Any sane person who listens to his wife and pays attention to the wisdom of up-cycling would never so nonchalantly toss a perfectly good, plenty strong and usable wooden palette into a fire pit! Who's with me on this? 

   Well, Handsome is on his way to the Commish now, and I have the farm to myself for the next eight to fifteen hours. So as soon as this coffee mug is empty and the animals are fed and I iron a few shirts, I have some important business that needs tending. Some up-cycling, palette-saving, creativity-nourishing type business. 

   What would YOU do with this palette? Would you make it into a vertical growing space? Or cut it apart for skinny little book shelves? Or would you find a few more just like it and stack them and add casters to make an awesome coffee table? Or how about a super cool head board? Or a spice rack? 

   See, babe? The possibilities for this simple piece of carpentry are just endless. You don't need it for fire fodder. We have pizza boxes for that. I love you, but I am gonna have to reclaim this palette. Like, today.

P.S. I'm Only Kidding, He Listens to Me Until it Hurts.


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