Saturday, August 16, 2008

He Said/She Said

This is not a picture of a bookshelf.

She says: I have a few books on order for the kids. I'd really like to get a bookshelf so I can organize and keep the books from piling up around the house.
He says: We should finish the trim and repaint the living room before we buy another bookshelf.
She thinks: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She says: Well, the trim has been sort of an ongoing project for oh, about four years now. Just a simple bookshelf would probably fit our life better than a project right now.
He hears: Let's go pick out paint colors!

Later at the paint store... (two WEEKS after the books have arrived and are piled around the house, waiting for a bookshelf.)

She says: This 'caramel' color is nice, with 'cloth' for the trim.
He says: Look at these cool texture paints. Look sparkles!
She says: Oh no! That would be too much work. Let's stick to what we know. Quick and easy color change. Remember, the bookshelf goal? Shouldn't we prime over the dark green we have on the walls?

Later at home with the TEXTURED paint, and NO primer. (Though he did in fact, finish the trim! The sole reason I am writing this on my blog and not packing my bags. I kid... I kid... I think...)

She says: This is like trying to paint with toothpaste! Are we doing this right? This is going to take forever. We are in hell, aren't we?
He says: .....................
She says: Seriously. This is bad. This is going to take our whole weekend.
He says: .....................
She says: @#$%^&*?!!!

HOURS and HOURS later.

She says: We are out of paint and need something like three more coats. We've already gone through two gallons of this stuff and how much is this going to cost us? (She is saying this to his back because he is walking out the door to get more paint.)
She calls out: Bring me back a damn bookshelf!

Hours later. No end or bookshelf in sight....

She says: Let's call it a night. In fact, let's call it a weekend and just do a wall a night next week and finish it up next weekend. Please, for the love of all that is sacred, let us stop. Let us salvage Sunday. Let me shut the heck up.
He finally LISTENS and helps her put the room to livable order. Around 10:30pm they get the overstimulated kids to bed. Staring wearily around the truly horrible looking room, they think somewhat dark and troubled thoughts based on exhaustion, paint fumes and general too-much-of-each-otherness.

This is also NOT a picture of a bookshelf.

She thinks: Our marriage will probably survive this, at least the trim looks good. She also can see the benefits of using a laundry basket to hold books. It is sort of portable at least.
He thinks: We need to get that girl a bookshelf. How in the heck is she going to do laundry when the basket is full of books? I mean, where are we supposed to put all of these paint covered clothes?

Part of the above sentence was a lie. In case you don't know me in real life, it was the part about me doing the laundry.

She says: I need a drink.
He thinks: Woo, hoo, I am going to get lucky! And I sure deserve it after all the hard work I did today.
She gives him a LOOK, that HE. TOTALLY. GETS. and finally, finally, they are on the same wavelength and they retire to separate rooms to spend the rest of the evening in peace and quiet. The end.

1 comment:

rae said...

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