Do you remember that I told you we are finishing our basement? That crap is crazy. I haven’t been paying attention to the progress because life. Yesterday, Zeke told me I should go down and look. Wow. I guess I still just can’t believe it. All the framing is up, and I can actually see the rooms. This is happening. I’m glad I remembered to take “before” pictures. I hope you didn’t think you’d be spared the before and after pictures. You KNOW those are coming. This is what our basement looked like a couple of weeks ago:
Here’s what I think might happen:
It will be so cool to have a real bar for Scott to serve me up my bourbon on the rocks after work. Yeah. You caught me. There won’t be a bar, because we’re us.
There will be a living room, bedroom, bathroom and a place for a wrestling mat. But, won’t our guests think we’re sophisticated when we ask them to join us for a drink on the mat?
I’ve decided I’m not really designed for project management. Scott is. He won’t admit it, but this basement thing is his baby. He says things to me like this, “The door to the boys’ bedroom is going to have to be shorter, because of the air duct. The carpenter wants to know if we want the bathroom door to be the same size as the door to the boys’ room, or standard. What do you think?”
I’ll say, “Hmm…” then give it a few moments to pretend like I have on opinion. Then, I’ll say, “Well,maybe we should have both doors the same size.”
Then, Scott says, “Well, I was thinking the bathroom door should be standard. Why have it shorter, if it isn’t necessary?”
Then, I say, “Yep. That. That’s what I think too.”
Being married a long time is awesome. After a while, you finally start to understand your spouse’s unspoken words. Like, I know now that when Scott says something doesn’t matter to him, that usually isn’t true. Especially if we’re talking about things in our house. He actually has very specific opinions. He’s just not a guy who likes to be over bearing, and blather on about things. He’s hesitant to own his instincts. I’ve asked him stop that. His instincts are tremendous. I mean, he married me. Enough said.
Every decision Scott has made regarding a home improvement has been solid. I can’t say the same for myself. The truth is, I get really bored with making decisions. I can’t conceptualize very well, so when someone is explaining the options to me, I just lose interest. I say something like, “Yeah. The first thing you said. Let’s do that.”
Then, I see the end product (like our living room carpet) which I have chosen, and I think, yuck. Why did I choose that? Too late.
The answer is, because I couldn’t stop day dreaming for 5 minutes to let some poor bugger finish his spiel. I hastily chose the first thing I saw.
Scott likes to think it all through, and consider the advantages of every option. He really takes his time about it. Oh man, does he take his time.
The quickest way for Scott to clear the room in our house, is to ask who wants to go to the home improvement store with him. We all run for cover. If Scott is replacing 50 cent outlet covers, you can believe you will be standing in the outlet aisle with him discussing the advantages and disadvantages of white verses beige outlets for 30 minutes, maybe more. It’s tedious.
When it comes down to deciding what you want on the walls, or which cushions to throw on the couch, come talk to me. I’m more interested in the important stuff.
I get it. I have limited intelligence, and a limited attention span.
Zeke is a miniature version of Scott. They really get each other. It has been a very, very long time since Zeke has asked me for help with his homework. He’s nice about it, but it’s silently understood that he left me behind in 4th grade.
Last night, Scott was doing his crossword puzzle. He asked me what a four letter word was for a Hindu God. I gave him the obvious answer, “Buddha”. I know. That’s six letters, and probably the wrong religion, but I don’t think you need to be nit-picky about it.
Zeke said, “No, Mom. That is Buddhism. Hinduism is a polytheistic religion. The answers is Rama.”
I asked Zeke, “Where did you learn that?”
He said, “I don’t know. I just remembered it.”
I told Zeke, “Well, here’s something else you might want to remember. No one likes a show off.”
And THAT, my friends, is what you call a teachable moment. I might put it in my book on how to be an awesome parent. Until then, I’m just gonna hand that kind of advice out for free. You’re totally welcome.
And on another random note, do you ever get your eyebrows waxed? Most of us women do. I get it done 3 or 4 times a year.
Recently, I went to a salon to have them done, and there was new person to help me. She was young and beautiful. When she was done with my eyebrows she said, “Now do you want me to do your mustache?”
I told this precious, precious young lamb of God, that the thing is I’ve never had my “mustache” waxed. And, the reason for that is I do not HAVE a mustache.
She stared at me.
I said, “Fine. Do it.”
She was gleeful. “You’re going to love this. Just wait until I show you the strip with all the hair on it.”
I said, “Yep. I’m gonna go nuts over that.”
Owwwww!!!! Mother of…that hurts.
“See?” She said. She put the strip in front of my face. “Look at all those hairs. You really needed that.”
When I was done with the waxing and my hair cut, I checked out. At this salon you pay your bill, and then you leave the tip in a separate envelope, and put the envelope through a medal slot. I put my tip in the envelope, and wrote a few words of encouragement on the outside for the young eyebrow/mustache waxing lass.
Because she does. She really does. I didn’t know I had a mustache.