I just read blogger Home Reared Chef’s post disclosing that her husband installed a new faucet in celebration of their 30th wedding anniversary and I immediately felt a bond. My husband and I hit our 29th last month, and he has installed lighting in the darkest recesses of our aging home as his anniversary gift to me and, well, him.
So the black hole that was our hall linen closet instantly came into high definition view and the dark corner at the end of that same hall suddenly blossomed with a generous beam of light cast by a gallery spot fixture via its dimmer switch, now softly illuminating a pale watercolor painting of a tender blue iris that has hung on that wall for an age.
|image by vorakorn kanokpipat|
These projects required studying and measuring walls, creeping around rafters of an unfinished attic, suspending untold amounts of cord, running wires down walls, installing boxes within walls, affixing switches and light fixtures, and finally screwing in decorative wall plates. Basically, things my husband relishes doing.
But before these tasks, there were several visits to Home Depot and possibly another hardware store where he hunts down requisite materials in the same way I stalk purses at TJ Maxx.
This, by the way, is a man who beamed with pride at installing dark wall sockets in our college son’s old room after scraping and texturizing the ceiling and painting the walls right before Christmas. He thought they looked more masculine against the flint grey walls and white trim and better matched the furniture. He could not wait to show off his handiwork to the kids, who nodded politely but struggled to fully appreciate the magnitude of his accomplishment.
How did I get so lucky to find this man, you are asking yourself. I ask myself the same question on days like today when he flips the switch to demonstrate how his manual labor has brought such magnificent light into our world.
I bite my lip and overlook the fact he tossed tablecloths and towels from the closet onto the stairs and created a small fabric mountain by dumping the cleaning rags onto the floor. I will admit that he did vacuum up the vestiges of a wide spray of plaster crumbs that showered the shelves, so my re-sorting of the closet was a small price to pay, really, for the fact I could now actually see what I was doing instead of randomly packing it with stuff, which has been the case for the 17 years we’ve lived here.
FYI on the DIY: This, people, this is the stuff of which long marriages are made. Just ask Home Reared Chef. Oh, and Happy Anniversary to all who celebrated anniversaries with some sweet home improvement surprises in lieu of upsizing their diamonds.