You’re upset - on a Saturday morning no less.
I’m spending more and more time fixing the Land Cruiser than I do gardening and reading with you - but you know what - sometimes I GOTTA DO ME.
I remove my tortise shell frames and wipe my brow, “Fine.”
I slowly walk into the courtyard, stroking my grey goatee, and you’ve got a picnic laid out with fresh lemonade from our trees, and my favorite anti-pasta.
Bella.
I sprawl out on your handmade patch work - comprised of fabrics from all of our travels around the world, run my hand up your arched back and lean in-
“GUESS WHAT I’M DONE WITH THAT FENCE!”
Damn you Daniel-son. Damn you.
(image via the sartorialist)
↓ 27 Apr 2010
