the shed, photographed from a distance that doesn't allow you to see my poor workmanship
The shed’s not only been moved, but given a fresh coat of paint, the old-fashioned way. No fancy paint sprayers for me; just the rhythmic zen of a paintbrush, like Tom Sawyer, except there was no one to trick into painting it for me. My wife came and visited, but she was too smart to trade me an apple for a chance to paint. She drank an iced mocha while watching me paint instead, which I think may have been a scene that an aggressive editor cut from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.