I fear that Peter has a villainous alter-ego known as “Destructo”– at least that’s how it feels at times. In the last two weeks alone he shattered my cheval mirror (talk about 7 years bad luck. . .), a drinking glass and pulled a wall cabinet off the wall of the bathroom– in the process breaking two ginger jars and an elaborate tealight holder that was a gift from my sister-in-law.
It’s not as if I wasn’t around when these thing happen– they just happen so quickly you can’t stop them.
And each time something like this happens, I become a little more jaded about whether we will ever have a nice looking house. On the plus side, our house is already a fixer-upper and while we’ve completed most of the exterior work and many interior problems, most of the cosmetic issues are still outstanding. This is probably a good thing. Since I tore a small hole in the wall looking for a junction box for the phone line (only to discover that the builders put a metal electrical box on the wall stud but nothing else) and haven’t patched it yet and my kitchen ceiling has leaked countless times because of the flooded bathroom, I am no longer concerned about whether anything looks nice– at least not today. I might be tomorrow or next week but definitely not today.