The
sconces that hung above the fireplace were a bit medieval-looking. Sort of
blackened silver and with ornate, swirly designs on the plating that was
attached to the wall, they really needed to go. I’m not exactly sure what I was
thinking when I bought them but since my husband wasn’t keen on them from the
beginning—and I was the one who insisted they were “perfect”—well, I had to
live with them.
Preparing
for the painting of the living room was, finally, the perfect time for them to
be replaced and for me to keep my deep dark secret about the mistake of
purchasing them in the first place.
Cool.
So
while we moved furniture out of the way and into the center of the room to get
covered in drop cloths, my husband also removed the sconces from the wall. He
was happy to get rid of them—but probably not as happy as was I! Now, instead
of ugly sconces, the living room had, as its focal point, two 5” round holes
with a bit of insulation sticking out and some wires that had little plastic
caps on the end.
I
quickly went about locating replacement sconces—now more discerning about my
choice and understanding of the impact they would have in the room. After a few
days I found (once again) the “perfect” sconces. (But these ones really were with their pretty white
shades and a few carefully-placed dangling crystals.) I sent the link to my
hubby with the subject line “please order asap.” After all, the room was just
days away from being finished and I wanted to have the sconces at the ready for
installation.
Every
day I gently asked, “Did you order the sconces?”
“No.
Not yet. Remind me tomorrow,” would be hubby’s beleaguered response.
This
went on for weeks—and weeks. The room was painted and the furniture back in
order. The holidays were fast approaching and still I had no sconces. The
gaping holes in the walls mocked me with every passing day. I’m pretty sure
they became larger as time wore on—for sure the faceless holes became more
irritating. But I wasn’t going to give in. The Great Sconce Standoff of 2014
was underway and I was up to the challenge.
(I
would have ordered them myself but I’ve found over the years that when I order
items from the Internet, my husband doesn’t appreciate the little torn piece of
paper with the date and amount I’ve handwritten as my idea of a receipt so I’m
okay with him being in charge of Internet ordering—and now it was just a matter
of principle: who would win the Great Sconce Standoff of 2014?)
Each
inquiry from me about the sconces became quieter, more subdued, more “I don’t
care if you don’t care.”
Here’s
the problem with that tactic: I actually cared and he really, truly didn’t!
A
month into the Great Sconce Standoff of 2014 I had a serious dilemma. Two
increasingly large black holes were overtaking my living room and I had to
somehow get my husband to order sconces. There was no wiggle room in the war
that waged between us in that I’m positive that he didn’t even notice the holes
while I was becoming fixated on them—obsessed even.
How
to get out of the standoff, save face, and get sconces became my daily goal.
I
tried this maneuver: I said to him, incredibly nonchalantly, “You can go ahead
and put the old sconces back up.” I thought this artful twist would push him to
order the scones.
Imagine
my horror when he said, “Okay.”
OKAY?! Now I knew that
I was in trouble.
Not
only was I going to lose the Great Sconce Standoff but I was going to be
subjected to the reminder everyday as I looked at the medieval sconces that
were going back up. I had to think quickly! I had to recover without him
knowing that he almost won!
“Although
I don’t want to do that to you. I know you don’t like them,” was my clever
comeback.
Three
decades of marriage has taught my husband well so his response, while pleasing,
was frustrating as hell, “I know you like them so they will be fine with me.”
Damn!
Now
it was likely going to turn into a new standoff: who was going to be the
better, selfless spouse!
Was this ever
going to end?
I wondered.
Then
it hit me. “I know you are busy. Let me order them because I think with the
newly painted room, new sconces will be much better. I know you are busy so I
don’t mind ordering them.”
That
did it. The idea of getting a receipt that was just a scrap piece of paper with
the date and amount handwritten on it was more than he could take. I found his
weak spot and am unashamed that I used it! That day he ordered the scones and a
few days later they arrived.
I’m
not proud of what I’ve done, but it was necessary. Someone had to lose the
Great Sconce Standoff of 2014—and it wasn’t going to be me…
