I think it’s too early to say that my nesting instinct has kicked in, because I think that isn’t supposed to happen until my third trimester. But over the past week I’ve had more and more interest in pulling lost and forlorn items out of boxes that were packed over six months ago. There’s been a lot of “Oh yeah! THIS!” along with the realization that my house doesn’t feel quite as spacious as it did before I had all this stuff out and everywhere.
Last week I was motivated to install the tile backsplash in the kitchen and after five hours of painstaking labor, I stupidly insisted that Matt stay up until 12:30 am helping me grout the thing. We’re both happy with how it looks, but I fear my husband is starting to think of me as one more of his cases.
Inevitably I’m running into the same old stupid problems that you always run into when you’re working with what you’ve got. When we first moved into the house I loved the color on the walls of the living room and dining room, but there were a few patches where the paint needed to be touched up. Luckily we had an original paint bucket in the basement that the previous owners left, but it had no lid with a color code, and was empty with dried gray paint on the interior. I had high hopes that my favorite paint guy at Home Depot could match it for me, but after painting my touchups with the new paint I’ve discovered what I have is a shade darker. So yes, this means we need to completely repaint the living room and dining room. The optimist in me keeps saying to Matt, “Yeah, but I wanted to repaint the trim anyways.” And again, he jots down notes about my behavior in his little black notebook.
Last night I decided I was going to hang some shelves on the wall while watching the Superbowl. Matt was in front of the computer doing some last-minute work.
“Look at me! I’m even measuring where to hang them so they’re perfectly centered!”
“Good job, hun.”
“But I’m not going to screw them into studs.”
“You should definitely screw them into studs.”
“Well, I’m not going to. I won’t put anything heavy on them.”
“But they’re pretty heavy as they are.”
“Yeah, well… <sound of drill>… too late.”
So the floor is open for bets. How much longer before Matt decides to murder me? And/or institutionalize me?
February 8th, 2010 at 1:45 pm
Hmm, maybe we could get you up to Chicago to do our back splash. Or a little painting? We’ve also got some walls that need mudding. No need for a perfect job; it only needs to last the next couple of years. till we move.
February 8th, 2010 at 2:30 pm
well with my track record the painting will be the wrong color, the mud will be lumpy on the walls, but the backsplash will be beautiful!
February 8th, 2010 at 8:33 pm
I bet he waits until the baby is born….then you’re fair game.
February 9th, 2010 at 8:53 pm
Well, if Matt can’t appreciate your nesting, you’re always more than welcome here! Besides, we have plaster walls, so you don’t have to worry about studs, just the occasional metal beam behind the plaster…
February 10th, 2010 at 12:32 pm
Sounds like a marriage made in heaven.