Faucets and marriage

The wife and I went to the hardware store yesterday.

Her latest project is renovating the smaller of our two bathrooms.

Fancy walk-in shower, new vanity and sink, the works.
When she gets it into her mind to do something, resistance is futile.

This smaller one is the bathroom I use.

She wants to fancy it up for guests to use.
It’s the one visitor’s aim for first.

As for me, I don’t care – I just use it and get out.

She gets the big, master bathroom.
Two sinks, long vanity, clothes area, separate toilet and bath area.

Mine is a closet by comparison.
Everything jammed into a 8 by 10 space at the end of the hallway.

Guy’s always lose when it comes to bathrooms and closets.
It’s the price for being married – but that’s okay.

So, we’re at the store buying a bunch of stuff.

For her, she goes by price first.
I go by what I like, how it looks and build quality.

You can imagine how that went.

We end up getting a new sink faucet that she liked, but good quality, which I liked.
That’s what they call compromise.

Then we went looking for some combination towel rack and grab bar.

At my age, I figure I’d like something to hang on to when getting in and out of the soon-to-be fancy new walk-in, white with grey swirls, marble shower with dual spray thingies.

I sort of wanted them to be black to go with the soon-to-be dark tile floor.
It’ll add some contrast to the walls.

She wanted white.

We compromised – she got white.

After getting the paint and some other stuff I went looking for a replacement power screwdriver.

That’s a whole other story for later.

The art of compromise in marriage is stick to your guns until they start to get angry – then give in.

Next week I begin my dog’s grave.
It’s time.

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