You Should Have Listened. . . .

I like stuff. All kinds of stuff. In fact, I have been told more than once that I have too much stuff. I like old sentimental stuff and new stuff and unique stuff and made-by-the-kids stuff. And I don't just collect stuff, I display it. As much of it as I possibly can.







I married a man that does not share my enthusiasm for stuff. He would be perfectly happy to live in a house with smooth beige walls (free of the blemishes of stuff), a couch and TV (with cable), a toilet (with TP) and a refrigerator and microwave. All the other stuff just takes up space and costs money.







I remember years ago when he moved into a house I had been living in for several years and decided he wanted to update the worn paint throughout the house. He took everything off the walls and patched all the holes like a professional. We picked out new paint colors and he took his time painting to be sure the job was done right. The fresh paint rejuvenated our tired old house and it looked great. I was excited about the change until. . .







A few days had passed since the painting was completed and I began to wonder why none of my picture frames, wall decorations and shelves (full of stuff) had been hung back on the walls. I assumed it was because Robby wanted to make sure he hung things where I wanted them and since he had patched all the holes he had nothing to go by--I was wrong. I asked him after work one evening if he was ready to start hanging things and his response was quick-"You want to hang all that STUFF back up?" And he wasn't joking. He had no intention of hanging ANY of it back on his perfectly smooth and blemish free walls. Of course, after I reminded him of the unspoken rules of relationships he reluctantly hung most of my stuff on the smallest nails I'd ever seen.



Over the years Robby has learned that it's best just to suck it up and hang my stuff. He realized that it would be less work if he just did it rather than watching me put numerous (and sometimes large) holes in our old plaster walls. I never have been skilled with a hammer, which is why my Dad used to call me "lightning". . . never strikes twice in the same place.







One of my favorite collections of stuff is my Willow Tree figurines. My husband and children usually get me one (or more!) for Mother's Day and before our fire they were displayed on a corner hutch in our dining room. We didn't replace the hutch so my Willow Tree figurines haven't had a home for awhile. I decided "I" wanted to put shelves up in the dining room to display them on. Our dining room is pretty narrow so I wanted them to be up towards the ceiling to keep them out of the way, but easily visible to all who visit my home. I held the recently purchased shelves up against the wall so Robby could see my vision, but to no avail. We spent a few minutes discussing the shelves and where they should be placed and in the end compromised and measured to place them halfway between where I wanted them and where Robby wanted them. We spent a good hour measuring and calculating to get the spacing between the five shelves perfect. This was a big deal. I picked out bracketless shelves that require two screws with anchors and three drywall screws to hang securely. With five shelves at five holes apiece that meant putting 25 holes in an otherwise unblemished wall. ( I know. My math skills are impressive.) Measuring and remeasuring was key to maintain Robby's sanity. The girls and I patiently held the tape measure while he marked each spot with a pencil. Then I held the laser level while he reluctantly drilled each of the holes. In the end I have 5 perfect shelves on which to display my prized collection.







But there is one small problem. One small problem that would have been avoided had my husband just listened to me and hung the shelves where I requested. Instead we have four functional shelves and one shelf that interferes with the normal operation of our sun room door. . . in short-the shelf is too low! This, my friends is why men should listen to their wives. We know these things.







In all fairness, I never once thought about the clearance the door would require. But the fact remains-the location I picked for the shelves would have easily met this need AND looked good.







So if you see Robby with a tear in his eye, don't fret. He is simply mourning the loss of his untarnished wall and contemplating a future of hole-patching and wall painting.