ᔥ Terrible Minds:
Over the last many moons, my wife busted her ass to make the shed happen. She weathered the (several) problems that popped up. She helped me settle on a design that did not look like a four-year-old painted it with poopy hands. Delays and problems besieged — and oh yeah, right around the holidays, too, whee — but then, it happened.
They delivered the shed. And put it together.
I WANT ONE. Hell, if it weren’t for the flood-happy nature of my backyard (we’re right against a river), I’d put one in.