My friends all know what I’m like, I’m possibly THE most impatiently impatient person I know. Once I get an idea I run head on into it, tackling all obstacles out of the way, blinkers on, ferocious clearing of the house, filling up everyone’s newsfeeds with sale after sale post, scraping together funds to give birth to the next improvement, focal piece, storage solution or just for something very very pretty. At times it’s all I can think about. I have an unhealthy obsession, I know.
We’ve come so far with our house these past few years, it has changed almost beyond recognition, improvements that have boosted our quality of life immeasurably. We are so fortunate, we haven’t done it without help and we are very grateful.
But the shower broke. The ugly, used to be white, now very much yellow shower, the thing with a hole in the front and a homemade lever, a diy fix my husband came up with several years back, the last time it broke and my hopes had raised a little. But no, fix it he did and it’s been persistently spraying it’s pathetic few droplets of water at me ever since.
That was until Christmas Eve morning. It was a morning like any other, I had put off washing my mane for several days longer than is socially acceptable, I undertook the mamouth task that is dragging a hairbrush through it, something that should only ever be done moments before entering the shower, a look not meant for public viewing. But that morning was different, the shower remained cold, despite all of Stu’s attempts it was certified DEAD. A small burst of excitement raises up inside me, but is quickly squashed by the instructions to “find a cheap one similar to this one and I’ll quickly fit it today”.
This was not to be the starting point of pulling this room of embarrassment up out of the shadows of shame and into the light of beauty. No. This was going to be another argument, a complete difference in viewpoint, my mind getting completely carried away, my husband’s staying firmly in the sensible section.
Sigh. I don’t really do waiting, it causes me a physical pain inside and my mind feels like it’s going to explode. But some things you can’t do on the cheap can you? And when I mean cheap I mean the cost of a crappy, ugly white shower from Argos cheap.
So i’m going to have to be patient and attempt something called saving. I’m also going to have to work very hard on my husband, to convince him that despite now buying a replacement ‘more than adequate’ (according to him) shower, that it is still something that needs to be done. I did promise to not even mention it until 2018, but my hand has been forced!
For now I will just add to my oneday bathroom Pinterest board and bury the sobbing deep down inside, as I walk into Argos and give them my money, for a box that does not contain my dreams.
In my sensible husband’s defence, if it was left up to me we would live in a very stylish box, in a hedge somewhere, I’m aware I need to be reined in sometimes.
I do love a good blog blurt, it’s wonderfully therapeutic!
(Picture credits – Pinterest, place of dreams and torture)