Dear DH

Yesterday at dinner DH said to me, "So, what's our next project going to be?"

I calmly rattled off a list of possibilities: stain the deck, fix the ceiling, wash the windows...but what I thought was,

"I love this man."

I think the sixth Love Language is Home Improvement.

If he knew what those words could do, I don't think he would bring them up in casual conversation. If he realized that I could power this house for a year on the amount of energy that sentence could produce in me; the staggering amount of tasks, and lists, and proposals that would result from him getting excited about this stuff, I think he would be wary. He might regret it. In the long run, he'd probally be glad that we turned our Besotted Cottage into the Palace at Versailles, but then again, we might not be married anymore, either. So I'm playing it cool. I'm holding back the D.I.Y. flood waters so as not to overwhelm him.

And by the way, pass the butter.

Drip Drop Stop!

Listen.

Can you hear it?

That's called silence.

Besotted Cottage is drip free, finally. It's been at least a year since the household-variety water torture began. Lately I've been able to sit and hear 5 different faucets drip, drip, dripping to their own rhythms. But no more! Huzzah! Allstate Plumbing has saved the day!

Say what you will about plumbers. They track in mud and charge too much. But can you put a price on mental health? MY mental health? No, you can't.

I keep forgetting to take/refusing to document the "before" photos. But here's some "after" pictures. Close your eyes and imagine something awful. And now, open!

Just Grow, Will Ya?

As a gardener, I'm in the trial and error phase. One might argue that gardeners never get out of that phase, but my mother's gardens seem to have very few errors. I'm still trying to figure out what grows down here in the heat and clay and whether or not I can remember to water the hydrangea every day (I can't). But last year one thing did grow, despite my inattention. We had beautiful impatiens in the front. So this year I planted some more in the back next to the also-Katie-proof irises. Here's hoping!

In the front there is a begonia. I violated every recommendation on the card that came with it when I planted it, yet still I have this unwavering faith that its will to live can overcome my clumsy attempts to kill, no LOVE, it.

Caulk Block

Not that you asked, but I know a few things about caulk. It took me 4 tubes to finally get the cap off. I couldn't figure it out. Its like the caulk company tested their product on the lid ("It IS impervious to all life!"). So I'd always have to cut the whole top off, which leaves with you with a bead the size of your arm. But last time I got it right and I'm here to tell you, with enough concentration and brawn, that cap will come off. Good luck.

Have it on my desk by Monday. Honey.

After months, sorry years, of waiting, the Master Bathroom Project is finally underway. All it took was a little compromise:

Me: The toilet paper holder just fell off the wall. Add that to leaky faucets, grimy caulk, stained grout and two holes in the wall that are literally covered up with duct tape and that brings us to The Last Straw. We're redoing the bathroom.

DH: Hmmm.

One week later.

DH: Draw up a proposal and have it on my desk by Monday.

Me: (grumbling under my breath) You don't even have a desk.

But I took him at his word and did the darn proposal and guess what! He's on board! So long duct tape (see photo)! And while I'm on the subject, may I say a word about sponge painting? It has never made a wall look better. Ever. Painting over that piece of hud will probably be the most satisfying part.

**In DH's defense, I must say the proposal was extremely helpful. Its surprising how quickly little things like baseboard and towel rods add up in a project like this. He may convince me to make one for all my projects.