When Laughter Turns to Tears

How Our Weekend Was
An original tale from one bloated, overheated Beluga Whale

It started out well. The weekend, that is. We were invited over to the in-laws for dinner. Dinner I did not have to make. My only responsibility was to test their new recliner while The Hurricane wreaked her havoc on someone else’s house. What could be better?

But the next day it took a turn for the worst. The weekend, that is. We continued Extreme Makeover: Nursery Edition. Something that no happily-married couple should ever do. This is why they send the nice folks away on ABC’s television version and hire the professionals. Because those poor people have enough problems in their lives. I know because that stupid show makes me bawl every time re: their aforementioned problems. So why make their extremities worse by pitting them against each other trying to fix up their home?

Our Extremities

I don’t claim to be handy. Never have. Fortunately, I have a father who is. I thought I’d found the same in Hunky Hubby. I was wrong. Now, don’t misinterpret: he has his strengths. He’s brilliant on the computer, is a master on the grill, is a loving father, plans fabulous getaways, and has single-handedly transformed our pile of C-R-A-P into a beautiful yard.

But I found out last weekend that wallpaper borders are not his forte. The hard way. Y’see, I was Day 15 into 90+-degree temperatures so I wasn’t at my best. Oh, and I didn’t get a nap. These two components alone add up to a big ol’ WATCH OUT sign that should be hanging from my forehead.

It wasn’t until we’d already dipped some of the border into a pail of water that either of us decided to discuss our strategy. “I don’t know how to do this, do you?” he asked. “I thought you did! Let’s read the instructions. How hard could it be?”

As it turns out, a lot harder than we had anticipated. Frustrated, Jamie threw his hands up and discarded a portion of the border. “I vote we don’t do this until we figure out what we’re doing.” That was all this hormonal woman needed and the pity party began. Because an inability to hang a border is about as horrible as it comes. Right next to famine and war, of course.

A half hour later, we regrouped with a strategy. And things went well, for the most part. Sure, it was like a sauna in that room and there were a few bubbles and bumps along the way. But it was actually kind of working. Until we got to the end. We were then faced with a new problem: the possibility that we would not have enough border to complete the job. And even worse was that we would be bereft of about the exact amount we had discarded earlier.

With the possibility of having to buy another $20 roll, we said our loaves and fishes prayer: that we would somehow have enough border to make it to the corner. Miraculously, our prayers were answered! Jubilantly, Jamie instructed me to grab the scissors so he could crop the final bit off. “I’m going to leave a couple of inches extra to ensure we have enough on the corners,” he announced.

A great idea, I thought. If he’d actually done it.