The Revolution Will Be Televised

I didn't revolt, actually. After months...nay, years of resisting, I became a complicit party in the acquisition of a new television. Not that we needed one. Our 36", 800 pound TV worked fine. This minor detail has been, for a long time, my successful stalling tactic.

Then the remote control sensor quit sensing. The spouse saw an opening and suggested getting an LCD TV. Being the thrifty one of the pair, I just ran the cable through a DVD player and used that remote to change channels. I was triumphant; he was defeated. I knew I was just buying time. Yes, I knew.

My spouse demonstrates a pesty predilection for purchasing items when I'm not around to protest. History warned me (in the deep, authoritative voice which history tends to use) that one day soon I would come home and find a new TV sitting in the living room. So I decided that I could be part of the process and at least have a say-so in which TV to get.

After driving around and reading and researching, we picked a new TV. A very large, very expensive TV. And the spouse was there in line, waiting to pay for this behemoth. I meander over, start to say something to him and glance down. On the other side of this giant box he has carefully concealed a Blu-ray disc player.

Yeah, because the TV isn't expensive enough? Well, this man is having shoulder surgery tomorrow. I was all prepared to be Nurse Nightingale. Maybe even the Naughty Nurse later. Now it is FULL ON Nurse Ratched. Hey! Maybe we could download that movie on our new Internet-capable TV and he can watch all 46" diagonally measured inches of it while I stand just out of reach, dangling his bottle of painkillers!

The Cabin...Epilogue

Well, the cabin is "finished." I used quotation marks because really, is any house ever finished? No, of course not. We still need to put stone on the foundation and chimney, some landscaping, more kitchen cabinets. But we had 18 family members there for Thanksgiving. For several days. EIGHTEEN. And nobody died. Well, one person ran into a ditch trying to make his getaway, but the spouse revved up his monster truck and pulled the Jeep out.

Oh, and there were eight dogs, as well. Including my dad's dachshund, who is not neutered (my dad or the dog)so he tried to hump every other animal (the dog, not my dad) . But he's really cute so I didn't kill him (my dad or the dog).

Did I mention that my husband is somewhat of an introvert? Doesn't like large crowds for any length of time. And did I mention that he has a torn rotator cuff (surgery, 12/29, yeah I'm excited to do this again) so he is in pain 24/7? Woo hoo! Recipe for grumpy spouse! Just add hydrocodone and burbon!

Even so, everyone (else) had a nice time. I think. Lots of food, games, merriment. We didn't run out of toilet paper, for that I am grateful. Because this family? We are seriously full of shit.

Cujo

This is totally a posed picture of my dog. I call her the Play-doh dog because I can shape her body, hair, and (obviously) lips and she just lets me. But will you look at that dentition? She broke her front teeth opening bottles of cheap beer back when she lived on the street.

When Did this Happen?

He turned 9 this winter. How is that possible?

BTW, he gets that hitchhiker thumb from his dad. They eyes are exactly mine. The dimples from his paternal grandmother. The blond hair? Maybe the mailman.

Progress

Siding is almost done. Wood walls and ceilings going in. Money draining out. Painfully. Hopefully this summer the spouse will be able to do some things himself, such as the tile in the bathrooms and the light fixtures. Meanwhile, I'm going to check into the market for human body parts. Rumor is I can get right good money for a kidney.

Splinters

Have you ever heard that building a house sometimes destroys a marriage? Wellll, the spouse and I are building a cabin in the mountains. The cabin we already own is just one step up from a tent, really. We bought it several years ago and have enjoyed spending time there with our kids. But it is small, and there is the issue of some people being skeeved out by the composting toilet, which is basically a fancy litter box. My sisters, in particular, are kind of prissy. They want luxury. Like, you know, a flush toilet. Spoiled brats.

OK, they aren't that bad. I love them muchly. (hi, girls!) Especially when they are giving me their hand-me-downs.

Back to the point. The cabin. The spouse and I decided it would be cool to build a larger cabin, both for our comfort and so we can have guests. We broke ground a couple of months ago and have been bickering ever since. "I want dormers on front." "But the neighbors don't have dormers." "But I want windows!" "It will cost more because the roof will have to be stick-built rather than pre-made trusses." "Stop using technical terms and give me windows upstairs, damnit! And I know that a truss is something that holds your butt together when you have hemorrhoids, so don't play that making-up-words game with me! I'm a librarian!" "Fine. We'll have dormers."

Multiply conversation, add irritation. Oh, and make sure that in any discussion you put your hand in my face while rubbing together your thumb and first two fingers in that "It takes money" gesture. Faint when I mention that I want black kitchen cabinets. Pout when I suggest that you make bunk beds for the basement. That's it, lovely.

Did I complain when you insisted that all doors be 36" wide in case you experience limited mobility at some point? Or that you want a handicapped, roll in shower on the main floor for the same reason? No, I did not; I said fine. Even though the wider staircase meant we lost a closet. But let's get one thing straight: if you don't give in on the kitchen cabinets, those wide doorways will amount to naught because I will be parking your ass down at the bottom of the hill and leaving you there.

By the way, I've decided on navy cabinets.

Midnight Logic

I got up to got to the bathroom during the night. I never turn on the lights for this because I know where the bathroom is in relation to furniture. And I know where all the relevant parts are. While answering the call of nature, a blue glow began to emminate from the bedroom. My spouse had turned on the TV. I returned to bed and we had the following conversation:

Me: Why is the TV on?

Him: I woke up and you were gone.

Me: So you thought you'd watch some TV?

Him: I was looking for you.

Me: ON THE TV???

I'd be willing to bet that he has no memory of this at all.