When I deem something creative you gotta know that it is. After all, I’m the one who will bring home a lampshade and install it upside down on one of our lamps. I drove Honey crazy one summer because I wanted a bird feeder fountain and you know? No one sold them, so I was determined to build one myself. But, um, there was a good reason no one made them. ‘Nuff said on that expensive debacle. Anyway, getting back to my point.
Honey has lived with me long enough to know that yes, I may have the occasional hair-brained scheme that’s a bust, but usually my wacky reinvention of an old convention works. Oh, I might have to fight tooth-and-nail to get him to tweak it for me. Like the time I brought home a four and a half foot antique wood carved candle stick and told him I wanted it for a lamp base. He took one look at it and said, “Have you been drinking? You actually think I have a drill bit long enough to channel out the center of this for the electric?” At which I did my patented shrug. What did I care about drill-bits? All I wanted was a lamp. When I said as much to him, he did the long drawn breath through his nose and took the piece in question out to the garage. There it sat until I complained loud enough for him to have a good look at. When he did, he shook his head and said, “You are the luckiest little…I drilled down half inch and wouldn’t you know it? There’s a metal bar right through the center.”
Meh, I didn’t want to rain on his parade or anything, but in truth, he was the lucky one because I wasn’t the one who was going to have to come up with an alternate plan if there was no hollowed out center to be found. I kept that little fact to myself. Some things are better left unsaid, you know? Anyway, we’ve lived comfortably all these years with me being the creative one. Which brings me to the crux of the matter today.
This morning when I reached for the soap to wash my face I noticed something. The soap dish in my master bath was different. Yes very different, but familiar. Where had I seen this…? I slammed off the tap and stood straight up.
“Hey,” I called to him. “Did you change my soap dish for a reason?”
Honey’s tone was chipper. “Yep, you like it? I’ve been waiting for you to notice.”
I pluck the soap out of it and pick up the dish. Sauntering out of the bathroom I walk over to him. “Yes, I do like it and you do too.”
He frowns. “I know.” When I do nothing, but hold it up in front of him, his frown deepens. “What?”
“Not that it matters but, you usually like this when it’s on the table at Thanks Giving.”
“Yeah,” I turn it around. ” Did you miss the stylized turkey as the handle? This is my “Thanks Giving” china butter dish.”
He scowls and goes on the defensive. “How was I supposed to know that’s what it was? It looks great as a soap dish.”
“Hm. Well, aside from the fact that I don’t keep bathroom accessories in my china cabinet and um, a turkey isn’t a popular bathroom motif, I can see where you might have made that mistake.”
To that he walked off shaking his head and I’m left thinking, that either he’s far more creative than I’ve given him credit for or my taste in serving dishes sucks the bag.