As the sun shined Sunday morning, I took an extra minute outside retrieving the paper. I checked out the paint job on the rails of the porch and beamed with pride. They looked pretty good. Much better than the rest of the porch. Visions of grandeur enveloped my head. I could picture how nice the porch would look after I finished painting the deck and steps. It would only be a matter of time before the neighborhood busy-body would be bouncing up those steps to give me an award for best painted porch on the street.
I had it all planned out. Begin painting when the Brewers game started and by the 6th or 7th inning I would be done and enjoying a cold beer as I basked in the warm weather in front of my soon to be award winning porch.
Then the phone rang. An inquiry about going to said Brewers game. Ha! I was prepared for this moment. I could easily tell my friend that I needed to get the porch painted, explained the award, and that I would have to pass. I mean, it would be rude to not be there when I was going to receive an award, right?
So I told my friend that I had planned to paint and I really shouldn't be going. I noticed weakness in my comment right away. Had planned. Shouldn't be going. Like a shark ready for the kill, he went for the deathblow. The Brewers would be out of town next weekend and I could easily paint then. It was a beautiful day to go and catch the first place Milwaukee Brewers live and in action.
15 minutes later I was showered and out the door. No more painting this weekend. I hope a rash decision isn't made and they give my award to someone else.