The sink is pink. Actually it's not pink, it's mauve. OK, so I call the mauve countertop a pink sink. I think pink sink has a better ring to it.
The pink sink has been leaning up against the neighbor's deck since October, 2007. Yes, it's been there approximately 643 days, but I'm not counting. I'm complaining, not counting.
Last year, my son bought me a lilac bush for Mothers' Day - the idea was to hide the view of the pink sink. Six weeks later at his graduation party, he offered to steal the pink sink. In their inebriated state, his friends would help him take it away late in the evening. I said absolutely NOT. What if they got caught? I have to live next to these people so that would suck. Right after his graduation party, he moved to the west coast. He came home the week of Memorial Day for vacation and he noticed the pink sink, looked at me and said, "I would have gotten rid of that, but you wouldn't let me, remember?" Yes, I remember.
The neighbor on the other side of me noticed the pink sink. She is pretty particular, so I'm not surprised. She asked me, "What's with the sink?" OK, she said countertop but I prefer sink. When I told her how long it was there, she seemed more annoyed than I was.
It's like a redneck backyard, the pallets piled up, the old bricks in a toppled stack, the half-opened bags of sand, none of that matters, just that damn sink. I know it's not rational, but I love sitting outside to enjoy the view, how green and lush everything is and then there's that pink sink.
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