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.