Oh, Goodie! A Honey and Riley Contractor Session!
When I get annoyed at Honey I look at this image of him. *Pulls down readers and eyes you* I was looking at it a lot today guys!!!
This shot of Honey is on my desk. It’s one of my favorites because my daughter took it. Honey was crouched down in our old backyard years ago watching while I played Marco Polo with our son in the pool. When I asked my daughter why she took the camera out of the lanai (I didn’t like the kids to play with it by the water. In those days, we didn’t have *gasp* cellphones to snap candid shots of people) she said, “I wanted to take Daddy’s picture. He looked happy.” Such a simple thing, but something I’ve cherished. Even when he drives me freaking nuts…
Let me explain.
This morning started off with another Honey and Riley contractor session. *leans in to whisper* We used to play this game all the time when we were first married. He was the contractor to me playing the lonely housewife. *Le sigh* NOW it’s he’s the crabby contractor and I’m the b*tchy homeowner who’s busting his you-know-whats instead of stroking them.
*Clears throat* Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, into the master bathroom.
That’s where we were this morning arguing over the impossible tile I bought. I heard the words:
“I swear to the almighty G man upstairs, that no one. I repeat. Absolutely, positively, no one would put these two tiles together.”
I flicked a piece of lint off my shoulder and readjusted my bangs that had gotten ruffled off my forehead from his bark, that was sometimes worse than his bite and shrugged. “What do I care about other people’s choices? It’s our house. Our bathroom, and if no one else has this combination and style I take that as a good thing.”
Yep, his eyelid was ticking. “I’ve been doing this for how many years?”
“Thirty.” It was more like thirty-five, but why quibble?
“Thirty-five.” See, I knew he’d correct me. “And in all that time I have never installed tile like this on anyone’s floor.”
“Great. At least we know it’s unique.”
His eyes narrowed and then he went into how hard it was going to be. I think he said something about having to do it blindly because the glass tiles go in backside down maybe? I figured I didn’t have to listen. That’s what I was thinking because I didn’t have to install them, right?
I reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re going to do great. I just know it.”
“Really.” I pat harder. “I have a good feeling about this. Everything has to work out because it was just the right amount of tile I found, remember?”
*Side-eyes you* Did I mention I found this tile at a restore place? No? Turns out I bought a big box of all they had there because to me it looked like it was enough, and after Honey freaked out on me for A. Buying glass tiles, B. For buying harlequin ones (that’s the diamond shape ones) C. For buying from a habitat for humanity place when we’re doing such a big job D. For not measuring a damn thing, and just winging it. *Takes a breath* I have up to J in the alphabet but no worries. I’m not going to bore you. Suffice it to say that Honey was hoping I’d pick something off the shelf at a flooring store and we’d call it a day.
*Stare right at you* That never happens with me. We’ve been married for 30 years. You’d think he’d know this about me by now. Sheesh!
Now, fast forward through some very tedious discussion and what happens two hours later when I try to get a look at the tile he’d started to put down? He tells me I can’t come into the bathroom because I am the luckiest son of a gun alive. Why? I’ll let him tell you. 😉
“Don’t come in, Riley. I want you to be surprised when I have it all done. You are going to blow a gasket when you see this. This tile and the color? Wow, it really is perfect now that the paper is off the front of it and I can see it. It works so great for that crazy ass tile you had me put on the walls. I mean, it’s as if the two were meant to go together. Hey, Riley!”
Imagine me doing a happy dance in the bedroom because you gotta know I had no idea that I was looking at the wrong part of the tile all this time. Who knew the actual color of the tile and its surface was hidden under brown paper. “Yeah?” I shouted back.
“I would go so far as to say, that when I die from all the stress you put me under and your new boyfriend moves into the house, he won’t be worthy of standing on this s*it. No way.”
And there you have it folks. My life. Honey calls me crazy and then he winds up having to apologize because he finds out I’m not crazy at all. My parents always called me a maverick because I’d go where no one has gone before. I’m not sure that’s true in this case because if no one has ever put these two tiles together they’d just be missing out on a whole lot of interesting designing.
For me? I’m only glad that I bought the darn stuff. Now that I see the real side of the tile it’s a hundred times better than what I thought it was going to be like. *cups a hand over mouth and directs my voice your way* Don’t tell Honey, though. He thinks I’m a visionary genius who can see thru opaque brown paper. 😀
How’s everyone’s weekend going? Good so far?