Last summer I saw a posting on Craigslist… I went to show Paul, and he said– we are definitely not getting a piano.
This is exactly what I was hoping he would say, because who does not love being the one to reveal an exciting plot twist?
I shouted– SURPRISE!
We are DEFINITELY getting a piano!
I thrust my fist into the air to indicate action and piano-getting.
I said— AT DAWN WE RIDE.
Then I marched up and down the street with my gong, announcing— Here’ye! Here’ye! I SHALL HAVE ALL OF THE GIANT FANCY THINGS.
Also, for the record, only someone who does not read my blog would mistake this for a piano. CLEARLY, this is our kitchen island.
I explained my idea to Paul… at length… which took about five seconds.
Here it is, for your consideration.
Acquire item of giant fanciness.
Put the giant fanciness in the kitchen.
I guess I did not explain it right, because Paul said – don’t you think a piano in the kitchen might be a little bit… much?
This confused me, because– what? A little bit much? No. I think it would be a LOT much… much like myself.
Besides, since when have I shied away from committing to something ridiculous? If I don’t use this, I will have to re-examine everything I hold to be true about myself.
I may need to go to therapy— where a primary topic of self-examination will be analyzing why I married a man who wants me to LIVE WITHOUT ALL OF THE GIANT FANCY THINGS.
Paul thought about this. Then he went back and rifled through his rolodex of anticlimactic responses.
He said – well, it’s an interesting idea. Let’s think about it for a little while… To you, this might seem reasonable. To me, it is a covert attack on my mental health.
Paul knows perfectly well that thinking about things for a little while is my very least favorite activity… It is so much more exciting and satisfying to just GO. MORE. FASTER.
GO DOG GO.
I wanted to fling myself on the floor and foam at the mouth to express the extent to which he was hampering my acquisition process and harming my very existence…But I had not finished looking on Craigslist.
So I just whispered – Vive la Révolution!
Then I scurried off to get into my French peasant costume and polish my pitchfork out in the barn while planning my revolt.
Liberté, égalité, fraternité craigslisté!
Usually the revolt takes a couple of days.
This one took months.
Stalemate. After impasse. After deadlock.
Fortunately, I am trained for this: this entire house project has been an extended drill session where I’ve eschewed all reasonable housewares and set fire to anything from Homegoods.
And ultimately, I guess Paul forgot to ask himself the one really, really, really important question: If this piano exists, DO I THINK VICTORIA WILL CHOOSE ANYTHING ELSE?
NOW, a video… and a note to say: I LOVE you people. YOU total strangers who GET the riding at dawn and the gong and the giant fanciness… xoxoxo times 10,000.