After some earlier convincing on my part, my husband just entered the kitchen with a proposition: In exchange for turning the playroom into The Office, he came up with a few conditions (which were open to negotiations). The first two shall remain nameless and descriptionless, as they were both rated at least PG-13. Those two conditions were easy: yes, and yes.
Onto the third topic of negotiations: if he says yes to turning the playroom into an office, I have to paint his office at work.
Let me stop for just a moment and revisit a topic I think I've written about in the past. I'll title this segment, "Men, We're On to You."
Men, we're on to you. The chores you suck at? The things you consistently forget to do? We're on to you.
No one likes taking out the garbage, so your claim of "forgetting" to take out the trash holds no water with us women. And how you suck at painting? How your "cutting in" looks like something the dog could do? We're onto that, too. We know that you know that if you do a crummy job, you think we're not going to ask you to do it anymore.
But we're on to you.
Two words for you: Go get your damn paintbrush and quit painting ugly.
During our discussion, he proposed a new, even cooler idea: Since I just want an office, he said, how about if we just keep the playroom as the playroom, and put up a wall in the house, making the "dining room" into "The Office"???
YES! I nearly screamed. Now I finally get those interior French Doors I've always wanted.
I am so in love with this man, I'm going to do all of the original conditions.
Hooray for the office! Hooray for teamwork! Hooray for interior French Doors!
We're starting tomorrow ... stay tuned.