Don't cry, okay?
I've done enough for both of us.
It's time to face the ugly truth, and my dweam within a dweam, namely, this rad pantry:
which should be mine, is not going to be.
I'm going to let you move past the disbelief phase for a moment.
Are we good here?
The hubs-- he just doesn't love it. He just doesn't.
And all I said was,
"Oh. Well, good luck with your life without a soul."
Actually, it was a much, much longer convo than that. But I'm not going to bore you with the details. I'll be brief. You be boxers.
He does love that pantry up there, but he doesn't "see" it in our home, in this little space you see above.
Yes, he thinks I'll eff this project up. There's that. I didn't take offense to that, by the way.
It's an extremely pricey project, and I agreed on that, too.
But somehow, this conversation went from mildly serious, and ended in (my) tears, and I do recall flinging back the words before I stomped away, oh. . .. I don't know. . . something along the lines of,
"And you know what, buddy? Don't even say that my projects become yours! Asking your opinion or asking you to hold up something for 5 seconds doesn't make it 'your' project, okay?"
I still don't even know where that came from. Apparently I can't stay on topic.
I apologized. And you know what? In his defense, he totally, totally told me I could do whatever I wanted.
But, at the end of the day, I'm not going to do something he's not gonna like. That's what the plywood floor in my laundry room is for.
it took me a while to move past this. I had to cry it out, hug it out, and finally move to the acceptance stage.
But you know what else I've always wanted in my house?
I've wanted a really cool bookcase for music, only. And there's just no space for it in the actual music room.
I said recently that my piano being covered in music was the way it should be, but I lied. ("I said and said and said those words. I said them, but I lied them." I love that book!)
And so? That's our compromise. I'm hardly using up any of the space, as this will be a front-facing music bookshelf.
Even got kinda trendy-like and slapped down a stencil.
See the bare bones of this project?
Wow-- that's, um, really something, there.
But, see, once I got to this point, I got to pimp the whole thing out in molding. And that's where things really get kinky.
Actually, the entire thing is done, except for the paint.
Gah-- paint, I hate you. Someone come paint this for me? I don't have it in me.
We could do tradesies. I could make you some tacos or something.