February 12, 2009

• It’s too cold to air the house out but the paint fumes are getting to me.  Derek painted the ceiling in the great room, and I painted the walls in the kitchen.  I turned on the radio and he turned it up louder, each of us far enough away from the other that it was comfortable to sing along.  He sure has a good voice.  And he’s partial to oldies. 

  That was the good part.  Actually, he arrived all hurt and sullen, which I ignored.  Normally, there would be much talk about the market and getting caught up with each other’s news.  We’d each make our own breakfast, and he’d play with the dog.  But we were all business today, and I paid no attention to him.  That’s when he started singing, changing the mood.  He knows I like it when he sings.  Or I used to.

  But he was still bristling over my accusation, saying it made him mad just to be over here around the dog.  I came on strong saying, “If anyone should be apologizing it’s you.  Just hurry it up.”  I want him to be done.  Meanwhile the dog was dancing all around, trying to play with him.  Dogs have a short memory I guess. 

  The minute I got done painting and started cooking he switched gears again.  I figured he must be hungry.  We made nice, and he even vacuumed for me. Then he suggested rearranging the furniture.  He’s been trying to talk me into moving the Stairmaster to the garage since I never use it.  It was unsightly.

  I made a yummy, Creole, curried shrimp, and he complimented me on it, as well as my paint job, getting up close to inspect where I cut in at the edge of the ceiling.  I’ve really gotten quite good at it.

  Then I brought up money for the first time since Christmas.  He’s going to remove the old linoleum from the kitchen, and I’m not going to pay him any more money.  Whew.  Then he’ll be done.

  But still he wouldn’t leave.  I wanted to watch the first part of Cramer’s Mad Money and it was starting in five minutes.  I could tell the way he was lingering by the fire that if I turned the TV on he’d sit down on the couch.  I kind of wanted to sit in my chair in the new location to see if I liked it while he was still here to move everything back the way I had it. 

  I got in my “Barcolounger,” as he calls it, and pulled the quilt on so Bridget could climb up.  He sat next to me at the new end of the couch, like nothing had ever happened.  Halfway into the show we all fell asleep.

  • 11:23 pm
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