Oh, Really?

"Oh, Really?" is what I hear in my heard as I get The Look.

Its not a bad look, not overly hostile, not bug-eyed insane. Just a look that suggests I'm hearing "Oh, Really?" in my head.

It doesn't happen often. Generally, only people that have known me for a long long long time have seen it. And, even then rarely. Perhaps because most people feel like they need to have known me for years before trying to thwart me. (Its probably why my husband snorted his drink out his nose when one of his friends suggested being married to me must be SO easy!)

And, then, there's contactors. What an interesting group they are. My husband, for his own reasons (probably experience with The Look), generally limits my exposure to contractors. But sometimes its necessary when you're building a house to interact with the people actually doing the building. Or, more accurately, the people who thought they were actually going to be doing the building.

We've already lost one contractor and an architect who thought that they could make their lives easier by putting a HUGE chase through my office (completely destroying the symetric design, a built-in bookcase/desk, and the line-of-sight). Apparently they thought "the little woman" could be ... managed. I took this as a bad sign of deeper issues.

Its amazing the male-contractors that think its their job to "manage" me into reconsidering decisions that they think I must have blackmailed my husband into allowing. Versus the ones that want to hear even tiny decisions from both me and my husband before continuing on anything.

I suppose its on my mind lately because this weekend we picked a plumber. I like our plumber. He's right-thinking. He did mention its the most bathrooms he's ever put in a house, six bedrooms each with an en-suite bathroom so it can be used later for a bed-n-breakfast, but he didn't say it while looking at me like I'm a gold-digging trollop who torments my husband. I think he's probably happily married. With kids, I bet.

My husband is absorbing the vast majority of the work on the house, trying to make things as easy as possible on me. But ... I'm sure there'll still be those moments of "The tub doesn't go there". "Yes, it does". "No, it goes over there" "It won't fit over there" "Oh, Really? It better fit over there, because I measured the tub and the plan and thats where it goes". "Oh. Hey, it DOES fit!"

Fortunately, I'm not adverse to putting aside my generally docile demeanor occassionally. (Note to Husband: Stop laughing like that! You'll pass out.)

Waves
 
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