So my hunny and I have recently taken to inhabiting the same domicile. That is, he moved in. And we’re very very happy.
One of the reasons we’re very very happy is cleaning. For me, cleaning = something I do when I have nothing else to do or something I do when it’s absolutely necessary = rarely.
For him, cleaning = something to do when it needs to be done = frequently.
So I’m cleaner now.
Laundry is another bonus. (Except for the socks I keep finding on the den floor.) And his technology skills are handy to have around.
Oh, yeah. And since I love him, I do like to be with him a lot.
Those are the things we’re happy about. There are other things, though. Things we’re ‘happy’ about.
*We’re ‘happy’ that we rearranged my furniture and found places for his stuff.
*We’re ‘happy’ that now, instead of my pretty cream comforter with off-white pinstripes, we have a poop-brown comforter on my bed. (For the cat, hunny, he said. To make her comfortable.)
*We’re ‘happy’ that he spent the afternoon stapling cables up around
my our den ceiling so we can have surround sound which I don’t care about. Which means we’re also ‘happy’ that he put up five speakers in a small room to explode my brain.
We’re incredibly ‘happy’ about all of those things.
I know that sounds like I’m not really happy, but we are actually very happy. And those things that aren’t my favorite, but are his favorite, are just part of the territory of loving someone who isn’t your clone.
Having a non-clone hunny requires you to be an adult instead of a child. Specifically, it requires you to C.O.M.P.R.O.M.I.S.E.
Yes, compromise. Such as you give a little and I give a little, and before we know it, we’ve reached a beautiful compromise that we both hate equally. This is happening right now with our own personal Indecision 2012: The Great Sofa Search.
My hunny is a picky pants. By this, I mean he has a perfectly good sofa and loveseat, which my bottom enjoy very much. However, he doesn’t enjoy them for the following reason: “I don’t fit.”
“What do you mean, you don’t fit? I can see you fitting right now.”
“Yes, but I don’t fit right. Cause the armrests aren’t smushy enough so I have to use a pillow and now I don’t fit anymore.”
I looked at him on the couch. He fit. He was using up the space between the armrests and didn’t seem to require additional space. To me, that means he fit. That’s what fit means. Look it up.
“You fit. You’re fitting. You’ve fitted.”
“No. I don’t fit. Can we get new couches?”
Oh Lord. Decision time. Now we have to compromise.
I prayed we’d get lucky. I prayed we’d magically happen on a perfect couch that would match beautifully with the style of the house and provide the ‘fit’ he was looking for. We set off to our first furniture store optimistically, expecting to be pleasantly surprised.
We have since visited five different stores. We walked through New Deal, Furniture Row, Ashley, National Furniture Liquidators, and another store that neither of us can remember. (We must’ve blocked it out.) I can summarize this lame adventure with a few phrases.
– Nope. Poop brown.– Nope. Arm rests aren’t squishy.– Nope. Looks like the eighties.– Nope. Too narrow.– Nope. Sticky fabric.– Nope. Hate it.
My hunny’s problems are due to comfort. For him, it’s Comfort, with a capital C. He doesn’t look at a sofa; he feels it. He pokes all the armrests before he sits down to make sure that they will be squishy enough for his dainty head. He smooshes down into the cushion to tell if frame is going to be hard. He lays down in the store to make sure he ‘fits’.
My problems are far more logical, I’m sure you’ll agree.
I like pretty things.
I don’t like ugly things.
Most comfy sofas are ugly. Poop brown, eighties style, and another indescribable quality I refer to as “Ew.”
So we’re at a bit of an impasse. I’m not really sure what should happen here. I think I should win. But I’m an adult now, so…. I may have to let him think he won before I actually win. You know, compromise.Pin It
LOL! I so love this post! I had the same issues with my hunny when he moved in. I was not so sweet as you. I said he could decorate the living room if I could decorate the garage. Since he declared the garage was a "man cave" and no woman should ever be allowed there… he was horrified! Problem solved, *I* decorated the living room. =)
Think, Wonder, & Teach
Thank you for sharing. The summer after we got married we bought a black leather 4 piece set that took all of my summer school paycheck. That was 10 years ago. When we moved into the house we got a beautiful blue set (sectional and a matching couch) that was squishy – until it was summer and we realized that all the squishiness was due to the feathers that would poke us when we were in shorts. We pulled feathers out for quite a few years until we had an opportunity to get rid of the monsters. So now we are back to the ugly black set that was in our living room. It's functional, we can mop up sippy cup spills. Moral of my story – couch issues are everywhere – you aren't alone – boys don't get prettiness – but even some of the pretty ones turn out to be horrible.
I Love My Classroom
OMG… Did you just post about my life? I never knew that "move-ins" came with so many cables!!! (Including Surround Sound–and we live in a small development with neighbors upstairs and next door!) I was laughing and nodding and nodding and laughing. Great post, Chrissy. Wishing you success in the Great Sofa Adventure. (I have to admit: On this note, I was the one who comprised! And it is, indeed, poop brown leather…)
Finding JOY in 6th Grade
That is so funny! I am quasi-living with my honey and we are not so happy! His stuff is EVERYWHERE!Good luck on the new couch.
My Life as a Third Grade Teacher
This is SOO funny! I am not even joking my sugar and I were looking at couches this afternoon!! I discovered that he could care less what kind of couch we own, except he did not like green. His agreeableness made my heart swell with love so I started looking at couches that I knew HE would like the best. We ended up agreeing on a grey one that I initially hated. . . . The moral of the story being, don't let your heart get in the way of a pretty couch. 🙂
Second Grade Math Maniac
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