With Drywall Dude finished and gone, Curt sprinted downstairs to begin the cleanup (Oh, the DUST!) and start priming the drywall. Naturally, I've been enlisted to help and we spent the first of what I'm sure will be many late nights downstairs, slapping coats on the wall.
The upside is we haven't had this much uninterrupted conversation since we stopped showering together. (Very pregnant person + husband + single shower stall = intimate in all the wrong ways.)
The downside is we're now embroiled in Paint-gate 2008. (Catchy, no? I'm thinking of having T-shirts printed) Having made the rookie mistake when we painted the upstairs, of believing him when he told me he didn't care what color I picked, I've been asking him for a few weeks now what color he'd like to use in the basement. He did what he always does, which is to ask me what I think. (Vicious cycle!) I told him something like a nice Bitchin' Beige or the I-drank-too-much-Merlot we had in the basement of the first place we lived. He looks up suddenly, very concerned.
"You don't want to pick anything that will clash with the pool table!"
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