Happy couples avoid the pain
It’s been a while since I’ve been courting, as they say. These
days, courting consists of The Husband going with me to Lowe’s or
Home Depot to get some caulk for the bathtubs or outlet covers to
replace cracked ones, without The Kids. And for an added treat, a
stop at Starbucks. Drive-thru.
Happy couples avoid the pain
It’s been a while since I’ve been courting, as they say. These days, courting consists of The Husband going with me to Lowe’s or Home Depot to get some caulk for the bathtubs or outlet covers to replace cracked ones, without The Kids. And for an added treat, a stop at Starbucks. Drive-thru.
Ironically, when we were courting, I would day-dream about the time in our lives when we would be so comfortable as to go to Lowe’s for a weekend home improvement project, for our own home.
I would wear coordinating sweats and my hair would be in a messy, yet adorable ponytail, with flecks of paint, possibly from the project we were working on. I might have some paint on my cheek and I might not even wear make up, in my fantasy. Although, The Husband would be wearing khaki cargo shorts, a crisp button down shirt; hair neatly combed and possibly gelled. (he hates gel, in reality), and freshly shaven. (Notice how I deteriorate in my fantasy, yet he looks like an imported beer commercial?) See, in the fantasy, it doesn’t matter what I look like. He’s blind to it. And I am fabulous at all times.
This came flooding back to me a couple of weeks ago as we walked the aisles in Lowe’s looking for solar lighting to highlight the small water feature in the backyard.
This was what I imagined on our wedding day. Strolling the long lines of paint, stains and ceiling fans. The moment I dreamed of. But something was amiss. I was not in a coordinating sweats outfit. I was in work clothes because I came almost directly from work and my hair was not in an adorable paint-speckled ponytail because it’s too short. My feet were killing me, in too-tight leather shoes and I was not even close to fabulous. The Husband was in jeans and had forgotten to comb his hair after his “home from work” shower.
I was getting irritated because I could see all sorts of things that needed to be done in the house that I didn’t notice before I got here. To make matters worse, I couldn’t find the solar lighting.
You’d think I would be quiet and keep looking for the lighting. Why annoy him, too? We’ve both had long days at work and were just trying to get a jump on a fast weekend project. Normal women would see this for what it was; a husband and wife, looking for lighting in a home improvement store. Not me. I see it as a husband and wife looking for enlightenment and improvement in a home store.
When did my fantasy go awry?
“You know, your closet’s a mess, even though I put those organizers in there. You need to go through it and throw some of that stuff out. Do you even wear half of that?” The Husband says as we cruise past the organizer section.
My left eyebrow goes up. “Oh, really? Well, the garage has become a dumpsite lately. I had no idea we’ve blown up so many TVs,” I reply, indirectly reminding him that he’s been promising for weeks to clean out our “no car” garage.
We’re quiet as we pass a couple, bickering about crown moulding.
I imagine that this must be where couples go to die. It’s rare to see a man and a woman together, smiling as they look at paint samples.
Painting is a sore subject with The Husband. After all the painting that we did right before we moved in, he got burned out and is suddenly very happy with the white walls on the lower level of the house. Not me. I goad him.
“I think we’ll paint that one wall in the living room. You know, that really high one, that the fireplace is on.”
I am not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes burrowing into my back as I saunter ahead, smiling.
We finally make it to where the solar lighting is supposed to be. They’re all out of the kind we want. Bummer, no enlightenment today.
On the way home, we stop at Starbucks. Courting, Sinon-style.
