Just this morning, upon starting up my computer, I was encouraged to “get fitter in 31 days” and teased to investigate the “4 things that will change my life in 2014”. (I’ll admit I was intrigued. Only four?)
Frankly, I didn’t read either piece. Nor have I fully investigated what’s in my blog reader. I’m willing to bet that all kinds of folks have composed these same sorts of posts. While I’m sure that I could come up with my own list — numbering, I’m certain, more than a mere four things that would change the course of my existence in 2014, I won’t be doing any such thing. If I were crazy enough to commit scads of time to this type of nonsense, I promise you that I would not be inclined to share anything that could possibly be used against me — mostly, I’m certain, by my husband. Yeah. I can just picture Fang and the psychiatrist poring over that kind of list.
I may be a little kooky, but I’m not nutty enough to give Fang that sort of information. If he wants to have me committed, he’ll have to do the work himself, take his own inventory, gather his own information. I’m surely not going to make it easy for him.
It’s not that I don’t have goals. It’s not that I don’t believe that writing them down makes them more tangible and, therefore, more achievable. It’s that I’m not narcissistic enough to believe that anyone else, outside of Fang and the court-appointed psychiatrist, would want to spend their time reading about how I’m going to address spice rack organization. (For the record, I’m not. The vanilla and the ginger will just have to learn to coexist.)
I will say this, though. I will continue purging the hovel. That’s something that I resolved to do last year — and I did, do it last year, that is. It’s just that I didn’t finish it. It’s been a semi-successful project, but it’s still a work in progress. I didn’t give myself a time limit when I embarked upon it, though it would be nice to have it done by next Christmas. Barring any major setbacks — like, for example, Fang giving me a hard time about painting the wall in our bedroom plum (I think he’s got his heart set on something in the cinnamon family) — I’m pretty sure it can be done.
You never know with Fang though, do you? He does tend to get worked up about things like paint colors and towel bars. I’m never quite sure what-all he’ll choose to fall on his sword over on any given day. It could be festoon valances. Or area rugs. He’s got definite opinions on area rugs — none of them positive.
For those of you who have been following along this year, I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that Fang thinks area rugs are “stupid”. Not, perhaps, quite as stupid as shelving, but stupid just the same.
I haven’t had the heart to tell him my plans for the bookshelf that’s coming out of my daughter’s room (as soon as she gets some wall shelves, that is). These plans involve the two things that Fang hates most — painting things and hanging things. I’ve been toying with the idea of improving the bookshelf by experimenting with milk paint and I’m certain that a French cleat is the best way to hang such a thing. So, that should be fun for Fang.
What Fang also doesn’t realize is that I have big plans for “Beatle Fest Weekend”. It’s the weekend that, for him, means spending some time relaxing with his brothers and his cousins. It’s the weekend that, for me, means that I’ll get to paint the hallway butterscotch — in relative peace and quiet. I may even go nuts and, if time allows, turn that old door that I purchased into a coat rack of sorts — I am envisioning a crackle finish.
In many ways, this year’s resolutions are no different from last year’s or the year before that or the year before that. They all involve driving my husband just a little bit crazier. And, you know, I enjoy that sort of thing. What’s nice, though, and what I don’t think Fang has been able to fully comprehend (or appreciate), is that at least he can now mumble to himself, twitch, and talk smack about me while his ass is plopped on his new grey chair.
Soon, he won’t even have to look at the ugly green curtains while he’s enjoying his ridiculous reality shows. Very soon, he’ll have some lovely white faux wood blinds to keep the light from interfering with his big screen. With any luck, there may even be a ceramic owl lamp in our future. (Fingers crossed, people! Fingers crossed!)
This year, then, it will just be business as usual here at the hovel. I’ll keep you posted! (I’ll bet you can’t wait to see that owl lamp!)