I think by now we're all pretty aware that I can be a little... obsessive. Anyone remember the towel incident in Jacksonville? We're about to take it to the next level.
Starting next week, B & I are taking on some major home renovations. And my "taking on", I mean begging my in-laws to please help us find and hire fantastic contractors. Maybe the better word is enduring. B & I are enduring some major home renovations.
So, obviously, the dreams have begun. Last night I comforted one unhappy toddler's nightmare, then proceeded to have one of my own, only I wasn't asleep.
I lay awake on the couch with the terrible realization that our bathtub wasn't going to fit through our bedroom door. Mind you, I'm not ordering some massive bathtub; this is a standard soaker. Our doors, however, are shipped straight from Mayberry and are exactly the width of a washing machine (another story for another time).
As I resisted the urge to email my contractor at 3am to alert him to what was clearly THE PROBLEM TO END ALL PROBLEMS, I had another awful realization: The bathtub is delivered to the top of the driveway. Above the dumpster. Now fear has set in that not only will I not have a bathtub in my bathroom, but it will be stuck at the end of my driveway for all to see. Forever. Alabama chic.
I was finally able to nod off to sleep when the strange dreams, the real ones, began to happen. I dreamed I was hanging out with my best friend from childhood whom I still adore and admire today, and all I could manage to do was wash her dishes and inspect her sink. Does she like this one? I wondered. It has the funny slanted angles.
Even my dreams betray me.
In a world of true trial, I believe these qualify as beyond #firstworldproblems. But, for now, they are my problems which, unfortunately, make them B's problems, so say a little prayer for him (and maybe buy him an extra afternoon coffee).