Marital bliss
The secret’s in the can. I have finally learned the secret to
(somewhat) marital bliss after 17 years.
Marital bliss
The secret’s in the can. I have finally learned the secret to (somewhat) marital bliss after 17 years.
   The Husband and I have violated nearly every rule and piece of helpful advice that we were given when we got married. People were full of useful tips for us, as young as we were. I wasn’t even of drinking age. At the time, all we needed was love. We looked at each other.
   “We don’t need anyone’s advice. We’re in love and no one’s ever been as much in love as we are!” (so there).
   As if we would ever go to bed angry.
   Please. I can’t count the number of times I have yanked the blankets off of The Husband and stripped him completely bare as I flung myself over to my side of the bed and turned my back with just a hint of a smile at his predicament or the number of times he’s left the house for work in a huff, leaving my lips kissless and the door slammed behind him.
We don’t usually stay mad for too long. By the end of the day, when we meet back up after our days at work, the gap is narrowed.
   He: “Hi.”Â
She: “Hi.”
He: “How was your day?”
She: “Fine. (silence, raised eyebrow) How was yours?”Â
He: “Want a Coke?” (my drink of choice)
She: “Sure.”
There. All better.
Sometimes, it’s a little harder. I might have made one too many comments about how we never use his car as the family car because he treats it like a biohazard site … or the garage … or the … well, you get the picture.
She: “Well, maybe you don’t have to do it now. We have the weekend.”
He: “Maybe.”
She: “Or maybe I can help you.”
He: (Silence)
She: “Want a Mountain Dew?” (his drink of choice)
He: “Sure.”
After not being able to come to any happy solution about the huge stark white wall in the living room for the last three years, we saw that soft drinks couldn’t conquer this one. If you’ve been following the ongoing saga, you know that The Husband is happy with the “blank canvas” (read doesn’t want to be the one responsible for painting it) and I’m in desperate need of color. Any color.
We decided it would be better off in someone else’s hands, as stupid as it sounds. It’s only one wall!
And to make matters worse, after I’d been given license to finally have color on the wall, what do I do? I go safe. I choose the safest color, next to white, that there is.
Beige. Well, not just beige. “Broome.” It’s exquisite in its simplicity in that it matches everything.
Yes, I understand that white also matches everything.
After a ludicrous job quote from a “Big Box Home Improvement Store” and one that I can live with from a local business, (The Pinnacle reminds us to Buy Local!) Saturday morning will prove my theory true, when the painters bring the true secret; paint. In a can.
