this morning #866.

this morning, due to doubtless dumb luck, all that glittered was in fact gold. when my husband initially approached me about buying this old house, he told me there was something special in it but he never fully sold me on the idea. in our time together, there’d been a seemingly-endless streak of hair-brained schemes. standing here slack-jawed in the basement of our new home, i knew that silly streak was over. this scheme would make all our dreams come true. he’d banged away down here for days, forbade me from seeing what he was up to. today was the big reveal: the walls concealed a literal pirate’s pile of gold. he let me take it all in. then he shared the tale of prospector pete.