Last night, I brought home the second can of lucky green paint (more specifically Sherwin Williams' Duration Home in "Envy"). I was going to finish the paneling in the playroom, which, by the way, is going to rock. I opened the door to the back seat of the car we call Green Bus (we're into verdant) and pulled out the bag of paint and painter's tape. Before I knew what kind of equilibrium in the galaxy had been interrupted, I looked down to see lucky green paint forming a small kiddie pool on our brick driveway.

I gasped and used some colorful language. The color of the language was probably green. My immediate thought was, "The neighbors will think I did this on purpose. They will think I wanted to see what my driveway looked like as the green brick road."

I rushed inside to drop off my bag and lifted up a small, rushed prayer that hub wasn't home yet because if he had been home, I would have needed to explain how I just spilled green paint on the driveway, and that would involve more gasping and colorful language.

I rushed back outside and turned on the hose. As I pointed the hose toward the paint, I watched the pool of lucky green turn into an even bigger, wilder pool of green. I realized that our driveway did not slant downwards toward the road as one might expect. The green pooled into the tiny crevices between the bricks, splashed up on the neighbor's car. The green seeped behind the row of trash cans on the left, it formed a gully close to the flower beds on the right.

The sun was beginning to set and I could barely see what I was doing. I started to flush some of the green into the street, but the more I flushed in one direction, the more green paint would trickle out in other directions.

Our driveway looked like the river in Chicago on St. Patty's Day.

The Vietnamese neighbors drove by and looked inquisitively at this small leprechaun of a woman, wearing all green, standing next to her green car, holding a green hose to her brick driveway at 8p.m. at night, causing pools of bright green to flush into the street.

Another crazy Irish person moves into the neighborhood, just what we need, they thought.