Randy and I decided to take four straight days to work on the house. Our goal is to be ready-to-list by mid summer. When I say that is “our” goal, that is actually “my” goal. I don’t think Randy is aware of any timeline.
Randy wasn’t down with the whole “let’s work over our mini vacation” plan until I told him we could also drink.
The house interior desperately needs to be painted. I have no idea what happened to these walls. I assume that grimy elves have food fights in our house while we sleep. So, instead of spending money we don’t have on painters, I decided I would do it myself.What could go wrong? I have the patience of a toddler on crack and the fine motor skills of Gumby. I got this.
My list of things to do included getting a huge jump on all of the painting. What I have managed to get finished is our bathroom. The smallest room in the house. I’m not quite finished. I have to fix all the spots that I fucked up. So you know, I need to mostly repaint the baseboards.
I have since learned to do the walls before the baseboards.
At least, I did a good job on the ceiling. Other than the spots where I got paint from the walls.
I know that it’s best to use neutral colors when you want to sell your house. So obviously, I picked a TARDIS blue for the bathroom.
I probably would have gotten more done if we had left the “booze” part out of our vacation plans. But really, that was the only way I could convince Randy that a working vacation would be a good time.
Thursday night, before we released our inner Bob Villas, we went out for dinner. We decided that we would leave the home improvements behind and relax.
We managed to make it to the restaurant without getting annoyed with each other. It seems like an easy task since the restaurant is about a six minute drive, but we are really good at getting annoyed with each other. We only need two to three minutes. Especially, if driving is involved.
We didn’t spend the first ten minutes quietly fuming while assuring each other that we are definitely not mad and were able to dive right into a meaningful conversation.
Me: We are really suited for each other.
Randy: How so?
Me: Well, we like so many of the same things, you know? And where we part ways are ways of both strength and weakness. Our strengths and weaknesses are like interlocking pieces. Where I am weak, you are strong. If it weren’t for your strength and your unwavering belief in me, I’d never be able to do what I do.
Randy: What do you give me in this puzzle piece thing?
Me: I got you to stop saying “We’re not going there. It will be stupid”.
Randy is a sweetheart, a compassionate and giving human. I am proud of him and smug that I get to spend my life with him.
Randy is also a curmudgeon. I don’t know how long he’s been a curmudgeon, way before he met me, though. I think he might have been hatched as a curmudgeon.
Randy’s natural inclination is to say “no” or to reject new things. He also assumes that most things just won’t work out.
For instance, the time I wanted to cook a goose.
Randy: Where the fuck are you going to get a goose?
Me: At this weird place you’ve probably never heard of. It’s called a grocery store.
Randy: They aren’t going to have a goose at the grocery store. What are you thinking? You think they have geese at the grocery store? Nobody actually eats geese.
Me: What the fuck are you on about? Of course they will.
We went to the store and walked back to meat department.
Randy: This is an exercise in futility.
Me: Aaaand here is a frozen goose. I hear they also have peanut butter here. And ice cream. Crazy.
I ended up not buying the goose because they’re really fucking expensive.
Since then, the only time I ever use the phrase “exercise in futility” is just before I’m about tell Randy that he’s doing that curmudgeonly thing again.
In his defense, he didn’t say once that the “paint the house even though we both suck at it” plan was a bad plan. He told me I did really good work.
I don’t know if I’d go that far, but so far, the plan doesn’t seem futile.
I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to cook a goose or anything.