Over the years, DH and I have learned the art of compromise (some of us more than others). Compromise has proven an invaluable tool for resolving conflict, particularly in the area of home design.
We are very different when it comes to how we want to decorate our home. As a result, there are rooms in our home in which DH gave the decision-making over to me, possibly because I had always yielded some spaces to him. In DH’s spaces, I rarely interfere. He gets the patio (for cigar-smoking and reading) and the den (for viewing the Giant Television), and of course, the workshop. I claim the living and dining rooms and the master bedroom.
I should also point out that DH builds elegant custom furniture for nearly all the rooms in the house. Woodworking is one of his hobbies, and he’s awfully, awfully good at it.
Now, whenever women start looking around in one of DH’s rooms and point out how beautiful things could be, it makes him uneasy. This week was a good example.
TS: I’m thinking about taking down those blinds and putting up some curtains there.
TS: The birds have chewed up those blinds, and they’re impossible to keep clean. Plus, curtains would block out more of the light when you’re watching movies on the Giant Television.
DH: I don’t like the sound of this.
TS: It’s just curtains.
TS: I have swatches.
DH: Great. Let me ask you something.
DH: Is this all some sort of stealth maneuver between you and Color Girl to start redecorating my den? Will it just begin with swatches and end up with new furniture tastefully arranged somewhere away from the TV?
TS: I can’t believe you would even suspect us of that. You are totally paranoid.
Color Girl:We could re-cover the loveseat, and paint.
TS: Paint? That makes him nervous. Anything which might require the unplugging of audio-video components gives him cold sweats.
Color Girl: We wouldn’t have to move the cabinets or anything. You know, if you really wanted a big project, you could . . . well, nevermind that.
DH: Oh, no. What?
Color Girl: Just blow out the wall and enclose the patio.
DH: Ohhh . . .