But the Happy Headache (the untimely-given-this-recession-that-might!-be!-over!-according-to-certain-CNN-folks- -gut-reno of our new place) is at a symbolic standstill of sorts. Husband and I arrived at our weekly site meeting yesterday morning and I don't know what kind of optimistic dope I was smoking, but I expected walls. The opaque kind. Last week, all the walls were framed, those steel beams standing proudly waiting for clothes, and naive me kind of thought that by this week, the sheetrock would be up. Silly me.
Truth is that things didn't look much different. The project manager assured me this is indeed a predictable point in the process when clients get disappointed because it seems like nothing is happening. Seems. Truth is there is a whole lot of talk about plumbing roughs and many breeds of wires. I try, but I can't get overly excited about wires. So Husband and the experts banter about fancy things like low-voltage and CAT6 and these conversations just swirl about my coffee-drinking head, not quite penetrating the surface. The project manager explained that for a couple of months now, the walls will be open and plumbing and wires will be run and integrated. So that, you know, one day we will be able to take showers and flush toilets and have air conditioning and heat and security. And music. And Internet!
This morning, Husband and I sat side-by-side on our prudent ultrasuede sectional and between refilling chocolate milk sippies and making Elmo sing and doling out well-earned jelly beans, we talked. I asked him what I should write about on the blog today. And smarty-pants and ever-humble Husband said something like: You should talk about wiring and structure. About how incredibly important these things are and how they ultimately remain hidden.
I looked at him and smiled and confirmed that I picked the right man. Yes, he is easy on the eyes. Hot. Very hot. (Sorry, Grammy. 'Tis true.) But, ultimately, what matters is that he is uniquely and compellingly wired, that his internal and emotional structure is sturdy and sound, that his integrity and moral core are robust and resilient.
So, maybe, just maybe, it's not the wallpapers and drapes and blue eyes and broad shoulders that matter most. Maybe, just maybe, it is those things that are invisible and intangible and invaluable, on which we should cast our focus.
Who knew a weekly report on a renovation could evolve so quickly into a love letter to Husband? Who knew wiring could be so inspiring?