My wife is decorating.
I know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not nesting and we’re not expecting.
However, the experience is interesting.
I’ve lived in houses, apartments, hooches, tents, pods and whatever. As a guy my criteria is quite different from hers. I’ve slept with 40 of my best friends in a tent in some God-forsaken country. Her? Hasn’t happened. Never will.
Looking for houses I have been guilty of the following. Roof? Yep. At least four bedrooms? Yep. More than two bathrooms? Check. Kitchen big enough for me to play in? Okay. No restrictions on ham radio antennas? Good, let’s move in.
She chose this house based primarily on the school system and a good place to raise our kids. While the kids were in elementary school, her main focus was on them. Now that one is in high school and the other middle school, we’re both still busy, but in a different way.
She and her muse have been able to commune around soccer, dogs, cats, school meetings, etc. She started moving things around and for the most part the progress has been an accessory here, a lamp there as opposed to major remodeling. Okay we did replace the couch and chairs that the kids and pets had made unusable, but that needed to happen anyway. Bottom line is it just keeps getting better.
The part I like is that it feels even more like home. Our home. I see her in the way the rooms look. It’s a touch of class that makes my life more enjoyable. I think what I like best is the fact that it feels like her rather than some professional decorator who is a stranger.
I work hard, and cherish my time at home. With her touch, I cherish it even more.