Background: Earlier this year hubs and I converted our master bedroom suite into a combination plant grow and herbal distillation room. We dubbed it, "The Sandbox" because we it is where we hope to learn how to play nice together. Historically, we have done reasonably well at the business end of family life, but we don't play so well together. He has his career, hobbies, etc., I have mine. Here in our retirement years, that all too often means we have nothing in common outside the tax return. The sandbox project revealed problems in the plumbing inside the concrete slab our house sits on. High dollar mojo. The future of our learning to play nice together was looking shaky, indeed. Oh well. . . I've had worse roommates. I am still playing in the sandbox, but it's been feeling pretty lonely in there.

Update: Saturday's "Tour de Hives" went well. It was a pleasant, manageable stream of visitors curious to see how bee hives fit into an urban landscape. Over the course of it, hubs and I got to talking about whether or not to move the sandbox to its next phase and the way hubs has been singing next to the grow shelves. I wondered, "Are you singing to the plants?"

"No," he answered. "I mostly like the acoustics in there."

Anyhoo, one yaddah lead to another and before I knew it, we were making a date to go shopping for shelving material for the Sandbox closet. It has sat empty all this time, awaiting inspiration. Looks like the inspiration hit. . . Maybe? We are converting it into a recording booth. Attempting to, anyway.

This Saturday is our 36th anniversary. We are giving each other a closet for the occasion. Feel free to get punny.

Just an update.