A Can of PINK Paint

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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It all started with a can of pink paint. I was sitting on my porch when my husband came home from running errands and he proudly handed me a can of hot pink paint.
He had a big smile on his face as I whooped and hollered and took the can of paint from him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said. “Is this for my porch?”
“I got it to do the front door,” he answered.
“You said you wanted a hot pink front door, but if you want it for your porch, you can have it. I wasn’t sure how dark to get anyway and it might be a bit light for the door.”
“Oh yes,” I said, “much too light for the door, perfect for the porch.”
“Well it’s your porch and you always said you wanted it pink, with a yellow ceiling, so why not?”
And…

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