The last two-and-a-bit weeks have been a testament to my resilience while under duress, my tact, my dedication to the cause and my patience. My mother will probably argue in regard to my habitual and distinct lack of patience of the past but I am nonetheless holding my own at present, amidst what resembles a disaster zone of dust, wood, plaster and more building implements that you could poke a stick at.
I had managed to remove myself and my office from the chaos and relocate temporarily to the lounge room to tap away quite happily, unperturbed by the screaming saws and nattering nail guns. My Bose QuietComfort 15 headphones lived right up to their hype of complete noise cancellation until the builder systematically worked his way through the house plans and began pulling the main door out of the lounge room to build my new frame.
I decided, at this point, that dust was more hazardous to productivity than noise pollution, so I shut my operation down with some good sheeting and a bit of packing tape and headed out the door for some renovation retail therapy.
My first port of call was the local bathroom showroom to pick out some tasteful tiling to match and compliment the neutral overall colour scheme that I was aiming for, which should have been a snap, as I considered myself to be the Chief Art Director and Colour Coordinator of the household. After two hours of wading through fancy Italian-look natural stone, stone lookalike, glazed porcelain, unglazed porcelain and marble lookalike, I was seeing double, so I decided on a travertine-type fancy stone lookalike without the Italian price tag. I paid the deposit and left them to the order, continuing on my way to the carpet showroom down the road.
Picking out a piece of carpet was even more educational with a choice of commercial heavy duty loop, heavy duty twist, home and commercial heavy duty loop and twist and home heavy duty twist and loop. I was pretty much over it by the time I reached the luxury shag line and made my choice on colour, durability and price and headed for the door.
I made it home in good time with the groceries in tow and was feeling pretty pleased with myself on a job well done. My husband was looking pretty pleased with himself too when he pulled into the driveway with my vanity a half hour later – until he spotted my face when he opened up the top of the container.
‘You got the wrong one.’
‘Yeh, I know. But this one is bigger.’ he shrugged.
It’s the wrong one.’
‘Yeh, you said that. But it was the same price.’
‘It’s still the wrong one!’ I threw a piece of packing foam at him.
‘I got a bigger one for the same price,’ he ducked and smiled at me. ‘I thought you would be pleased.’
‘What is it about being bigger and pleasing women that so fixates you lot!’ I screamed at him and started marching inside. ‘You better tell the darn builder, because he’s going to want to know all about your bigger dimensions!’
Somebody snorted and I looked up to see the building crew lined up along the veranda watching the show.
I slammed the door to their chortling and left them to it.
My husband made peace later and bought me a bunch of flowers and the dust has metaphorically settled somewhat. The bigger vanity managed to fit into the allotted space and the style was still in keeping with the overall appearance.
My husband tells me he was considering me when he picked the bigger vanity as I would have more space in which to put all my ‘junk’, but I’m not buying it until men all over the world are finally extolling the virtues of medium-sized 4wds, warships, planes, trains and condoms.