Occasionally we hear comments like “I don’t know how you spend all day together without fighting.” While I appreciate the assumption that our marriage is all sunshine and smiles, the truth is we argue. We get upset with each other… and with Clara… and even with Burger. It’s not a Real Housewives–level meltdown (our table-flipping count remains at zero), but like any normal couple we have disagreements. Sometimes they’re healthy and communicative; other times they’re less so — Sherry yells and I sulk. The point is: yes, we fight (for a brief mention, skip to about 11:45 in this old blogiversary Q&A video).
Even though we’re open about the fact that we argue, we avoid airing the specific details of our private fights. That applies across blog land and in real life: we don’t gossip to friends or family about the petty frustrations we have with one another. It’s not about keeping up appearances — it’s about not complicating our problems by dragging other people into them. Usually we get over things quickly anyway (there’s always another project or post demanding attention), and I don’t want a temporary gripe to change someone’s view of my loving and beautiful wife — because at the end of the day that’s how I see her.
That said, today we’ll share one home-improvement–related spat from a little while back. Lucky for you, it actually ties to DIY and house stuff, so now that we can laugh about it, it feels worth telling. Yes — it was about a bathroom shelf. Specifically, the one on the left in this old photo:
Rewind to the post about painting our bathroom: we removed a glass shelf and a towel bar beforehand (they came with the house when we bought it a year and a half earlier). When they came down, both landed in a box on our bathroom sink to be dealt with later. “To be dealt with later” was not exactly the phrase Sherry used — her version of the story goes like this: “Don’t donate these; I want to Craigslist the towel bar because it’s from Restoration Hardware, and I might reuse the shelf by hanging it in the shower for shampoo and stuff.” My memory is foggier — I don’t recall that conversation at all.
Fast forward a few days. The room is painted. Art is hung. The unaddressed shelf and towel bar are still taking up space by the sink.
One evening I get in a cleaning mood and go on a short but intense spree while Sherry prepares a post for the next morning. She’s glued to her laptop in the office and doesn’t notice what I’m doing. My spree includes filling a bag with old clothes, removing the old bathroom light fixture and — here’s where trouble begins — tossing the shelf and towel bars into the car so I can drop them at Goodwill. I didn’t broadcast my plans; I only mentioned, “I’m gonna run a bunch of errands” as Clara and I headed out the next morning.
That afternoon the conversation went like this:
SHERRY: Oh hey, I was thinking over Clara’s nap we should swap out the towel bar in the shower for that old shelf we took down. That way we can actually put our shampoo and stuff on a shelf.
JOHN: Wait, what old shelf?
SHERRY: The one that used to be on the wall. It was sitting by the sink the last time I saw it.
JOHN: You mean the one I donated this morning?
SHERRY: You WHAT?! John! I said I wanted to Craigslist the towel bar and possibly reuse that shelf!
JOHN: Sorry, I figured they’d just been sitting there making a mess so I’d help take care of them.
SHERRY: Why didn’t you tell me? You snuck out without a word! I could have stopped you and explained if you’d told me what you were doing!
JOHN: Am I supposed to tell you every errand I run?
Not surprisingly, the conversation escalated. Sherry grew more frustrated; I got defensive. She accused me of “ruining her plan” to add a free shelf to the shower. I couldn’t fathom being “yelled at for cleaning,” while Sherry pointed out I’d donated a $75 Restoration Hardware towel bar she could’ve Craigslist-listed for at least ten bucks. In a less-than-mature move I threatened that if she didn’t appreciate me running errands while watching Clara, maybe I wouldn’t do it anymore.
I knew I’d messed up, but I wanted credit for good intentions and to make it right. So I rushed to Goodwill and begged them to dig out the bag I’d dropped off that morning. No luck — the bag was already gone. They were sympathetic, took my number and a description of the items, but several quiet weeks later we concluded it was a lost cause. That led to our Plan B: the suction-cup shelf solution you’ve since seen in our bathroom. It’s worked well so far, even if it wasn’t free or built-in. You can’t win them all.
This little spat is behind us now. There were apologies, concessions that it wasn’t a big deal, and promises to communicate better. With the amount of time we spend together and the projects we tackle, another bump is inevitable. We try to remember we’re on the same team with the same goal: whip this house into shape and have as much fun as possible (ideally without killing each other) along the way. So if you ever wondered whether we fight, you can now reference “the Towel Bar Incident of 2012” — or if you prefer, “the towel bar incident where John was totally right.”
Now it’s your turn. Have a DIY miscommunication to commiserate about? Share it in the comments — feel free to use the blogging equivalent of a blurred face and an altered voice if you want to protect the innocent (or the guilty).
Psst — for a more detailed post on resolving decorating-related disputes, check out our follow-up on how we handle those conversations.