Since we moved into this house 3 years ago, I have not been happy (complaining) about the water pressure in my shower. (We have separate bathrooms) Hubby has tried various tricks over the years such as a couple new shower heads, removing the ‘governor’, and even changing out a section of pipe. The tub spout has always dripped and has been getting heavier and heavier over the past few weeks. We discussed (I bitched) about how the next time he went to town, he should get me a new one.
It was a yucky, rainy day yesterday so he sent me a text letting me know he was doing the forty minute drive to town. “Need anything, honey?” “Just the faucet, dear.” “Okay. Love you.” (How sweet, huh. But wait, there’s more.) I came home from work yesterday and heard him diligently working in my bathroom and smiled. It was cold and windy that day so I was especially looking forward to the hot shower I would take and how grand the pressure would be. He would inevitably have a reason to have to come in my bathroom as I was getting out of the shower then complain about how hot of a shower I took. (The steamed up room rats me out every time)
I walked into the bathroom. He looked up at me and smiled. With great pride, he turned on my new VANITY FAUCET. I frowned. It took only a second to register with him. “Aw hell!” Yup. He apparently didn’t remember our conversation (my bitching) from just the night before and bought the wrong bloody thing. Of course it’s my fault. I said faucet. *sigh* Did I mention it has 1/2 the pressure of my old one? Or how could he forget he just replaced it a year ago when my Tigger one got too hard to turn? (Yes, I had a Tigger faucet)
It’s times like these I have to look back at the sweet things he does (lest I kill him). I have a thing for Mustangs. At the Forth of July parade a few towns over this year, there was an immaculate ’67 Shelby. I pouted and said, “I wonder what it feels like to have something everyone else wants.” He looked at me and smiled. “I kinda like it.”
Yeah… I think I’ll keep him. 
