Understand that we have very similar attitudes, very similar tastes, and very similar artistic natures. So there is an awful lot of subjects that we see perfectly eye-to-eye, and a small boatload of others that we share fairly compatible views on; if we're not on the same page, we're at least in the same chapter. But in the long run, it will be those topics which we disagree upon that will be sure to keep this marriage interesting.
And when I say interesting, I mean the definition that has roughly the same meaning as volatile. Or incendiary. Or mildly atomic bomb-ish.
You already know about the whole sordid cat thing. To her, a cat is a compatriot... a family member... a stalwart friend who just happens to not have opposable thumbs. To me, a cat is a potentially disease-and-allergen-riddled vermin that has absolutely no redeeming value unless you have rodents in your house... it provides no protection, it scares no potential burglars/muggers/murderers, it carves up furniture we can't afford to replace, it stinks to high hell, it does not differentiate between places it is supposed to go and places that are off limits. It's a very slight difference of opinion. Yesterday, she was cooing about the fact that a feral cat in her neighborhood had kittens on her porch because it felt safe there. While she was doing this and going on about it, my thoughts wandered more or less to these subjects: 1.) Potentially, they could have Rabies. 2.) Potentially, they also have fleas. 3.) It would be very ironic to drop them into a pond with carnivorous fish in it, and 4.) Oh, sweet mother of fuck, don't let the little bastards fucking imprint on her and force her to give me the "But they can't live without me, and the kids just love them, so I can't just leave them there alone" bit later.
(Believe it or not, that is actually pretty unfair of me. I'm sure that my Lovely Fiancée ™, knowing how apoplectic the thought of even one cat is making me, is almost certainly not giving any sort of thought to bringing in others. And yet, there is always that niggling little bit in the back of my head that always adds, yes, because cat-lovers are so well-known for their entirely rational and logical thought processes-- especially when it comes to kittens-- aren't they?)
So we knew all things feline was going to be a big stumbling block to the Utterly Perfect Saccharine Marriage.
What we didn't know was that window treatments were going to be another one.
Part of the problem, of course, is that we're both artists. And as such, we consistently exercise our God-given artistic right to assume that we are never wrong. This is sometimes also referred to as Artistic License-- which more or less says that reality is actually fluid and varies from artist to artist, and in fact the cold hard facts of reality have absolutely no place in artistic vision unless the artist says it does. Artistic License in small dollops is a good thing. But like so many things, it can be downright dangerous when it goes uncontrolled. Artistic License can allow an artist to paint a vague shape and say it's a dog when in fact it looks like a smoldering heap of unwashed socks and elephant shit. Artistic License can lead someone into honestly believing the bible told them to create a Jesus Theme Park complete with the Crucifixion Log Ride and the Loaves and Fishes Gift Shoppe. Artistic License can delude people into believing that Facebook games ending in -Ville are actually constructive uses of time. Artistic License means Lady Gaga wins. Artistic License leads to well-intentioned but ultimately disastrous Artistic Visions... like when someone decides that they should get their new car in purple and puke orange to make it stand out.
And sadly, My Lovely Fiancée ™ and I are exhibit A in the case of Bad Shit That Happens When Those Carefully-Cultivated, Seemingly-Artistic Visions Collide.
It started innocuously enough, when we were searching through web pages for designs for our windows. For most of the windows in the house, we'd come to the decision that mini-blinds would suffice, because A) mini-blinds are cheap, and B) we are about tapped out of our money. However, there were a couple windows, like the front room picture windows, where we both felt something more was called for and were willing to spend a bit more on. So independently, we looked at a few options. I took a more classical route: I preferred the functionality and understated style of Roman shades. So I fired off some links for her to check out, and told her excitedly how we could even get motorized ones that would raise by remote.
Her response to those over the phone was simple and to the point: "Really?"
And it wasn't a response to my enthusiasm, like "Really? We can do that? Oh, honey, how wonderful!" No, it was one of those Really? tones that only women can make, the sort that generally precede something like, you seriously want to put your genitalia in the vacuum hose?, or, you honestly think a shirt that says 'Hooter Inspector' is an appropriate gift for a five year-old? The kind of tone that makes you immediately feel small, uncultured, and on a mental par with the smarter breeds of flowering shrubs.
"Well, yeah." I said, unperturbed. "You don't like it?"
"No, I don't think I do."
"Why not?" I pressed. Because, as a guy, I am used to having a reason why I don't like something, even when it comes to style, you know... the color sucks, or the flow of the whole thing is wrong, or it's too expensive, or it just doesn't go with a damn thing we own.
There was a long silence. A long and possibly pointed silence. "I really just... don't... like it," she said, with an odd sound to her voice... most likely because she was swallowing words like "Loathe", "Repugnant," "Hideous", and "Vomitous."
"So what do you have in mind?" I asked.
She sent me a link, which I dutifully followed.
There was an equally long and poignant silence as I took it in.
"Did the link work?" She finally asked.
"Uhm. Yesssssss," I said.
"Aren't they nice?" She asked.
I looked again. "Uhm. Is that a fucking scarf over the top of the whole thing?"
"Yes," she said, probably able to tell that I was not as impressed as I was supposed to be. "They call it a scarf valence."
"It's well named... it looks like it belongs over some rich old woman's neck. It's freaking gauzy, too."
"That's the way it's supposed to be. It suffuses light." She said.
"Aren't drapes supposed to block out light instead of just filtering it?" I asked. "I mean, I could just put up toilet paper if we wanted to only kinda block out light."
An exasperated noise-- one that I am slowly becoming familiar with-- came from the other end.
And things pretty well spiraled down the toilet from there. It was a case of Classic vs. Nouveau, which is something like Mac vs PC for people with an over-aggrandized sense of their own interior decorating worth. I think I called one of her choices snotty and over-embellished, and she said that one of my choices looked like it belonged in a nursing home. I told her that a more classic style emphasized the Roman look of our doorway, and she said that the design of the house demanded something that didn't scream 50 years old. If we'd been in the same room, the eye-daggers might have been flying every which way.
Finally I took a deep, irritated breath.
"So. Mini-blinds?" I grated.
"Fine." She growled.
"Cheap." I grunted.
"White." She snarled.
"Perfect." I rumbled.
So I put up a pair of nice white mini-blinds in the living room and we have managed to survive phone calls since then without incident. And we have a very nice house that is waiting to get a full drapery treatment until we can go out together and actually see if there is any sort of window treatment we can both enjoy without getting nauseous every time we enter a room and see it.
And until then, we are living happily ever after. At least until we start having to pick out towels.
(The author would like to point out that the argument above has been embellished and dramatized in some portions for the sake of effect. In reality, Mark and Jessi are not nearly so coarse or filled with invective, and would never say most of these terribly hateful things to one another. Thank you.
...Okay, except the cat thing. That's 100% legit.)
... warts? What kind of warts are we talking about here? I think we need to talk.
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