It’s an uphill climb in the boudoir

Okay, I’ll admit it. For the last month or so, things have been improving in the bedroom . . . but not in the way you might think. (That department doesn’t need fixin’, thanks.)
I’m talking about matters on the home improvement front, an area known in this family circus for its dormancy and dust.
However, much to my amazement, renovation activity in the bedroom took off again a couple of weekends ago.
I don’t mind surprises. In fact, when presented in small box form (i.e. diamond ring), I’m speechless. But then again, I’ve no experience with that kind of show-stopping “husbandry.”
I am equally taken by the presentation of a ready-made meal by hands other than my own. Sadly, that too is a long shot.
Given my Irish/Scottish ancestry, I am inherently bossy. And when it comes to my home renovations, I hog the reins. So you can imagine my reaction to unplanned “Mr. Fix-It” projects done without a work order from me.
I found out about the first of “Pete’s big ideas” by telephone, while lounging in my hotel room in Winnipeg, 373 km from “Project Central.” He’d just laid 200 sq. ft. of ceramic tile in the living room portion of our bedroom.
The shock hatched snakes in my hair and, had I been home, I’d have surely turned Pete to stone. (I expect he knew that when he decided to inform me long distance.)
Lucky for him, I had four hours of driving time to reach home turf. It gave me time to get rid of my Medusa Complex and consider the benefits of letting him loose in the bedroom.
Upon my arrival, much to my bossy self did I discover, that Pete had made a great choice and a great job of it. The new floor looked stunning and inviting. (As did “Mr. Fix-It” decked in commercial knee pads.)
But like hot cakes, and using my subtle powers of “Home Queen” persuasion, I convinced Pete that the remaining 200 sq. ft. of bedroom floor also should be tiled.
And voila, before he knew it, I had a work order in and signed for the remaining ceramic tile installation in the bedroom, plus the kitchen and the “great room.”
Meanwhile, another of “Pete’s big ideas” in the bedroom will make a gymnast out of me yet.
I am vertically challenged at only 5 ft. 3 in. tall and reaching for items from the top shelf in the grocery store is tough enough. But as of Saturday night, getting into bed became the next chapter in my “larger than life” experiences with a creative husband such as Pete.
I have but 30 inches of length to my gams, which makes a 40 inch-high bed a bit of an obstacle.
Granted I gave the nod to this “Gi-normous” plan. My bedroom is huge and a really big bed just seemed the right thing to do. Besides the temperature is warmer up there.
But quite frankly I had no clue that size really, really does make a difference.
The first night I slept in it (after being vaulted in by “Mr. Fix-It”), I awoke around 1 a.m. to make a trip to the “loo” and was afraid to get out of bed for fear I wouldn’t be able to get back in by myself. (And too stupid to wake up the inventor of said project for help.)
About 5 a.m., I dismounted from my sleeping quarters by sliding off the side feet first, hoping all the while the floor was still where it was the night before. One solid “thunk” and I hit the ceramic tile with enough force to straighten out all the kinks in my spine, then made a bee line for the bathroom.
Next stop, the hardware store for a stepping stool.

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