The bathroom hates us. It totally, totally hates us. I suppose the same could be said for many home improvement projects, but this time I can’t help but think it’s personal. Maybe it liked the awful decor with the THREE different kinds of wallpaper, maybe the hideous testicle lights were really what made it feel special, perhaps the gigantic medicine cabinet is what it defined itself by; I don’t know.
All that I do know is that we have been thwarted at every turn. The walls are so fragile that when I removed the wallpaper tape, some of the drywall actually got damaged (which actually served to make me feel like somewhat less of a wallpaper-removal failure). Even with the approximately 65 pounds of spackle I carefully put onto each and every crack, the walls still look pretty bad. Which is accentuated nicely by the new light fixture. The medicine cabinet that I recently picked up (on sale!!!) had a crack in it AND was missing the shelves. When going to exchange it, we learned the reason for it’s reduced price: it’s extinct, well aside from the floor model, which we then bought.
The nice pedestal sink? Oh yeah, the damn sink doesn’t sit flush on the base, so it wobbles. When we took it back, it appears that ALL of them wobble. So after all of this we’re going to hire someone to install it.
(and yes, I DO realize that things could be worse. I never operated under the illusion that this job would be simple. Honestly, it’s all the things that I never would imagine would be hard that have proved to cause us the most grief)
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to weep into my towel rack.
It’s been a long two years, marked with such exciting events as “Why Becky Is A Sucky Pregnant Woman” and “Wow, We Need To Make Up Our Mind As To Where We Want To Live,” and in that time I’d like to think that I’m starting to learn a bit about this whole Being An Adult thing. And if not, at least I’m learning a bit about homeowning, or as I like to call it Why Lowe’s Is Heaven On Earth.
Over and over again, I sit around googling prices for things, because where I grew up, I never had to worry my addled mind about such things as lawn furniture and light fixtures. In fact, you might even say that I was oblivious to them, because I could not have cared less. Now that I have my own house, I am constantly struck by just how incredibly off my internal pricing is about the crap that you suddenly find yourself obsessing over. Like why shiny brass fixtures were so important to the previous owners. I mean, WHY?!?
Take for example lighting fixtures, which I, for good reason, never ever had chance to explore unless we were high and OOOOOHH!! a pretty light! I had always assumed that they were unbelievably expensive. Prohibitively so. In remodeling the bathroom, I’ve learned that holy hell, they’re actually pretty reasonable. Which makes me wonder why on earth my parents stuck with their pseudo Tiffany style, hanging fruit covered, stained glass monstrosity for so damn long. Illogical, and if you ask me, unforgivable.
Which brings me to nail guns. I’d always assumed that we’d acquire one during the bathroom remodel, because, hey, we’re putting in a chair rail (<—–don’t I sound sophisticated!?!) and we have to replace the trim, plus they might be handy to use to threaten Daver with. Then I walked by the selection, and wowzers, they’re SUPER expensive!! Who knew?!!?
Why is lawn furniture so freaking expensive? The set we’d picked out cost over $2,000, which I wouldn’t spend on ANYTHING (unless, of course, you mean bed linens, in which case I would and have), and most other stuff looks like it belongs in the same circle of hell as our old bathroom did, and even THAT is expensive as fcuk. Unreal, simply stated.
I guess that I still have a lot to learn about this Adult Stuff, after all.
It’s Daver’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve been wracking my brains as to what I could say about my darling husband to comemorate the year. He’s older than me, he’s always GOING to be older than me, and you can take that to the bank.
In honor of him turning 29 years YOUNG tomorrow, I am going to list 29 things that I have learned about my husband this year (and only a partial roast):
1. There exists 2 time zones in my house: “Real Time as designated by whoever designates such things” and “Daver Time,” which runs about 1-2 hours behind Real Time.
2. He can sleep through anything, including labor and a screaming baby.
3. While the house may be in complete shambles, The Internet will always function perfectly.
4. He is more apt to quickly celebrate a positive pregnancy test than I will ever be, and never think to exclaim “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
5. Despite what he may say, he hates Chocolate Brown.
6. While strapped for cash, he will drop a significant amount of money on an outfit that makes his pregnant wife “feel better.”
7. Although he’d never admit it, he loves it that I make a hugemongous deal out of holidays.
8. He’s more of a creature of habit than I am, as evidenced by the fact that we have gone to the Hideaway for the past 3 years for his birthday.
9. He’s too sweet to admit that the baby actually said “Daddy” the other day, despite having heard it while I wept into my hands sobbing “Mommy, Alex, SAY MOMMY.”
10. He allowed me to purchase Ben a Playmobil house for his 6th birthday because it was really what Ben wanted, without making a big deal out of it not being particularly manly. He also didn’t rub in the fact that I was overjoyed by said purchase.
11. Even after a hugely long day for him, every time he comes in the door and the children clamor for his attention, he makes sure to not let them see just how exhausted he is.
12. When thwarted by Marriachi music, he went and “camped out” on Ben’s floor because they’d been looking so forward to camping outside.
13. He’s not really a morning person, either.
14. Even after being up most of the night with a newborn baby, he trucked his sorry ass to each and every one of Ben’s soccer games.
15. To save his life, he would STILL be unable to put away his laundry.
16. After listening to me complain about being fat, he doesn’t rub it in if on my next breath, I ask for McDonalds.
17. For many months, he didn’t realize that I was not actually hand washing his special “not dishwasher safe” mug AND ACTUALLY USED IT DIRTY.
18. He fully accepts that I absolutely hate to cook and doesn’t complain about it.
19. Rather than make fun of my addiction to crappy TV, he plops down beside me and watches such shows as “Americal Idol” and “The Girls Next Door.”
20. He allowed me to get myself a pet bunny even though we had a baby coming in about 5 minutes.
21. Although completely justified, he does not often engage in “Why, Becky” conversations with me as much as he could. For example “Why, Becky did you bleach the Kate Spade pillow covers that cost as much as a car?” he just agreed that we needed to buy a couple more.
22. He didn’t rub it in my face that the baby who made me sicker than God looks just like him. Which I totally would have done had the roles been reversed.
23. Despite having the best intentions, he is almost utterly unable to complete a project once started because “oh LOOK, a BLUE car!!!”
24. He was so proud of the 8 week gummy bear ultrasound pictures of Alex that he took them into work to show them off. Even though you couldn’t tell what it was.
25. He never once (okay, ONCE) bitched at me over how sick I was when I was pregnant with Alex, nor did he complain about how me not working affected the finances.
26. Although I can beat him in arm wrestling and rub it in his face for the next 3 (ahem 8) weeks, he never complains when I make him carry the vacuum up and down the stairs for me.
27. He calls me “Shorty The Pimp” instead of “Sweetie.” ‘Nuff said.
28. He admitted last night to having boofed in a sock to me, which is a dangerous, dangerous thing to admit to me.
29. He puts up with me, year round, which should earn him a metal or something.
Happy birthday, Dick For, I love you.