If you live near the beach, one of the things you must either love or make your peace with is sand, because it’s everywhere. By “everywhere†I don’t mean just on the beach. I mean everywhere.
A quick perusal of my house this morning revealed this:
And this:
 
Oh, and this:
 
Followed by this:
 
And last, but not least, this:
 
My perusal revealed sand in a few other places too. These are places we won’t be discussing. Ever.
When we first moved here, I tried to be diligent about keeping the sand on the beach and not in the house.
Over time, I came to realize that this was an exercise both in futility and insanity.
Now, sand and I have come to an understanding. The understanding basically involves it staying out of all of the beds and most of the food.
It usually abides by our agreement.
 
And let me just tell you, when it does this on the beach, it more than makes up for a multitude of its sins. This feels so much better than any foot massage I’ve ever had.
Notice, I did up my toenails all fancy-like, just for you.
Trust me, I did you a huge favor.