In many ways, I have a more free, creative personality than my husband. He is from a military family who was a military family before that. He himself was in the military. To military families, things should be (if done properly) very orderly and extremely well organized. To Jon, this meant that he came into our marriage, straight out of the navy, thinking that he was extremely neat.
It's taken a long time to work this out and he still hasn't accepted this fact, but all along, he thought he was neat. All his life, his mother has been highly organized and efficient as any military wife strives to be. I don't know how many times I've gotten undressed for a shower, taken a shower, dried my hair, brushed my teeth, put makeup on, blah, blah, blah, and finally headed back downstairs just to see her pulling out clothes from the dryer. MY clothes. The ones I'd just taken off less than an hour ago. (Did I even notice that she came in while I was taking a shower?)
So all those years Jon thought he was neat, when in fact, his mom was picking up every scrap of lint in his path. And while he was in the navy, he had one bed (or 3/4 of one normal size bed) to keep clean and he had no choice but to have it painstakingly clean.
It's not me. It's him. Tornado Jon.
But he is pretty organized. Well, much moreso than I am. He plans and assesses, all the while pulling at his beard. If he shaves his beard, I don't know if he'll be able to accomplish anything. He laughs and shakes his head at my hodge-podge attempts. I try, I do, it's just that I get distracted. Easily. I think it bugs him, maybe just a little, but I also think that he likes to be the hero and rescue my botched attempts at hanging pictures with push-pins or hanging Christmas lights with duct tape.
Why am I thinking about this today? Well, I am still in the middle of the nasty-bathroom project. I had a mirror that I had always planned to use. This week I've spent a lot of time cleaning, sanding, and finally painting it. When I went to install it today, I learned a sad, horrible truth...
The mirror doesn't fit.
It doesn't fit in the space provided for a mirror, dagnabbit.
There is a large opening, but again...oh, you get the picture.
Jon would never have this happen. He would have measured first. Several times and in several directions.
But if it matters, that mirror looked pretty dang good before I scratched it to bits, along with the wall,trying to make it fit.
Do I have to tell him?
4 comments:
That stinks that the mirror doesn't fit. Can you fill in some of the hole? Get another mirror just like it and have 2? Hang the mirror someplace else and get a brand new mirror for the bathroom? Will your mirror fit over the holes in my ceiling?!
The part about Jon's mom brought back memories of when my mother-in-law lived with us for several months. We never had any dirty clothes!! I had that same experience of taking something off and then finding it clean and folded by the end of the day. It was spooky. I found out that it's pretty humbling to have someone else wash your underwear:(
Man, that stinks!! I hate when stuff like that happens. I like Kelly's idea!
This is soooooo something I would do. Can you use the mirror someplace else?
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