We have survived and thrived through:
- loss of faith
- five miscarriages
- physical injuries
- job problems
- weight gain
- weight loss
- family members living with us
- a psycho ex-wife from hell
- blending a family
and now.....painting. In case I have never mentioned it before, HB is a perfectionist. And apparently, much to my shock and surprise, I am not. I am not great at cutting in, rolling, or keeping the coloured paint off the ceiling or trim (picky picky picky people). I am, however, very good at painting closets, which is great because that's where I spent the last hour of our painting excursion. In the walk in with the door closed and my cup of Tim Horton's, sitting on the floor, pretending I was cutting in for the final coat.
And to his credit, when HB told me he couldn't help it, that he had to put on two more coats over my first rolled coat, he said "please don't ever forget that you live with a perfectionist who always ends up pissing and moaning his way into doing all the work himself because no one can live up to my standards, so this is NOT about you, ok?".
He then proceeded to take the blame for every splotch of Sudan Sand that was on the ceiling and/or the baseboard trim. And made me love him even more, if that's possible.
It helps immensely that SIL (I am going to have to nickname her here soon) took the cues this week, packed a bag and went out to their other sister's place for the weekend. We all needed the break from each other.
Now excuse me while I go love up my husband.