A fairy stained my fence while I was at work today. Okay, maybe it wasn't really a fairy, but that would be a very cool story. Except I guess it would take a fairy an awfully long time to stain a big huge fence and she probably couldn't even lift the paint brush with her little arms and getting stain on her wings would be disastrous. So, it probably wasn't really a fairy. But it was some secret, Tom-Sawyer-good-Samaritan-fence-stainer. Nice, huh? It's incredibly hard to feel sorry for yourself when you come home to a beautiful, golden-brown fence on a sparkly fall afternoon.
I have a sneaking suspicion I know who it was (or at least one of three possibilities), but I'm really loving the not-knowing part. I should probably try to track down my generous stain benefactor, but then that whole idea of the fairy would be gone forever. I figure I might as well live in the fairy tale as long as I can.