The Shelf of Marital Compromise

I think I've mentioned before that that wonderful husband of mine is smart and well-informed and knows so much about everything. 

Do you know why that is?  (Well, in addition to the giant brain factor.)

It's because he is, at all times, entertaining himself.  It's a rare moment that Matt's not entertaining himself in some fashion.  He's either watching TV, or reading a book, or talking to an actual human person, or listening to a podcast.

The podcasts are the real troublemakers.  And it's not that I hate that he listens to podcasts.  The best part about them is that Matt gets so much housework done while he's listening to them.  And I love coming home to clean floors and empty dishwashers and freshly-mowed yards.  I also love it when Matt fills the Zune up with lots of awesome podcasts that we can listen to together when we're on car trips (or that he can listen to by himself while I sleep when we're on car trips).

But I hate when I go to say something to him and he doesn't hear me because his ears are full of Ira Glass or Dan Savage. 

And I hated that Matt had decided that he also needed to be listening to podcasts whilst showering--which meant that he would drag the Zune speakers into our tiny little bathroom and set them on the counter.  You know, because what's a shower if you can't listen to a little bit of Kevin Smith?

I hated the speakers on the counter. 

It was becoming an issue.

It was becoming one of those little things that would make me angry--like when I'd be washing my face and splashing water on them, or when the towel that he put the speakers on (for protection) would get wet from the sink, or when I'd knock the speakers onto the ground in the middle of the night when all I wanted was to pee without waking up.

So I'd put the speakers back on the shelf in the living room, and he'd move them back to the bathroom.  And then I'd put the speakers back in the living room, only to find them back in the bathroom hours later. 

Since Matt loved the speakers so, I wanted to love them in there, too.  But I didn't.

Enter the shelf of marital compromise. (I'll sand and paint those spots over Christmas break, or maybe spring break or the summer.)

Now Matt can listen to his podcasts, and I can even jam out to some "Ms. Jackson" while in the shower. (Did you know that the lyrics actually say "Never meant to make your daughter cry" and not "Never meant to make your doggie cry"?) 

Oh, and it's not the shelf that's crooked.  It's the light switch, and I take full responsibility for that.

This is the new spot for the speakers, which is actually better because it's in the middle of the house, and because Matt can hear his podcasts even better because the speakers are higher.  And I can splash the counters all I want when I wash my face.

Now there's no more huffing while I carry them back to the living room, and I can, instead, channel my energy into cleaning that dirty tile!