form and function

This morning I dug deep to unearth my purple ankle boots from the barracks of my closet. They seemed like the perfect punctuation to my black coat with the buttons on the back and my black matchstick chords. But, as soon as I zipped them up I knew they were a bad idea. Sure we'd be sitting at a table for a good portion of the morning, but come eleven we were bound to be trudging through mud on-site. Shaking off all sensibility I chose fashion over function and let purple reign supreme.

Table topics checked off, we drove to the house. It stands bare-boned in the winter sun, no doors, and windows only having arrived last week. Plywood planks are the temporary driveway to the east of the house. Six eyes examined six different shades of brick, and all agreed on one.

We walked the inside of the house, checking measurements, talking electrical and pluming, duct directions and porch pillars. I was scribe, the only one with a pen and paper, my hands and feet freezing by the time we got to the back patio. I came home and soaked my feet in the tub for 15 minutes. I'll be grateful when those ducts bring hot air down through the vents and when the mud dries. Next time I'm choosing function over form.