When I first met The Architect I had no desire to (a) buy a house; or (b) renovate a house. Sometimes he would talk about his plans for the future and how he wanted to buy and renovate. I would smile at the right places and once, when it was obviously my turn to talk I said “just so you know….I’m not interested in that stuff, I’d just be watching”. I had to say it. I’m lazy like that. Plus I like to keep expectations very clear.
Twelve years later he has proven himself to be an extremely handy man. He renovated our previous two-bedroom unit on his own (painting, tiling, wardrobes, kitchen, everything), and now he’s single-handedly renovating our three-bedroom house in Brisbane. And I’ve been true to my word. I have simply watched.
He’s so lovely that when he talks about renovations, he uses the term “we”. We painted the outside of the house this Easter. We built the deck. We did the kitchen. We did the kids rooms and so on and so forth. I can’t and never do, sit by and let him bestow these accolades on me. Whenever he says ‘we’, I interrupt with ‘you’. But he continues as though I didn’t say anything.
Early last year he stained the deck and painted the outside of the house. He had just finished when I was sitting on the front steps, reading a magazine and drinking my afternoon cuppa. He was idly walking around the front garden and said “what should we do next?”. From memory I don’t even think I looked up. Just kept flicking through my mag and said “a fence’d be nice”. He disappeared under the house, re-emerged with a can of paint, and measuring tape and started mapping out the fence. A week later we had a fence.
He (with the help of his Dad and brother) stuck this whopping big deck on the back of our house.
And can I just show you where Polynesian Princess and I were while they were doing some of this?
Yes. This is at Doyles, Watsons Bay.
In Sydney. Ahem....
He also took our gaaawjus kitchen from its original state from this:
There was three layers of crap on this kitchen floor but it was totally worth breaking through it all. And I helped that time. I can't seem to locate the photographic evidence, but I did help. (I DID!!).
So what's my contribution? Ummm….I make a pretty mean BLT?? Open a mean bottle of lemonade?
And I do appreciate it. I do. Forget all the yelling, condescension, insults and whining. Just forget all that!
I appreciate it. Hand on my heart. Thank-you honey.
I love you.