Working together on home repairs: a true test of how well you can get along

There are many different things that can test a relationship -- marital or otherwise. The obvious ones include money, sex, and being away for long periods due to work (or, sadly these days, a military requirement). To that list, let me a new entry: attempting to work on a house together.

We have a 63-year old house that badly needed some updating. In addition to a paint job, the downstairs had to be torn apart and put back together. Several months into the project, I now know why you never see this situation on TV: there isn't a lot of humor involved here.

The first part of this project -- the dining room -- went well. I helped moved tables and bookcases to the living room and left because of work conflicts. Lynne painted the whole room in two days. When everything dried, table and cases went back. Piece of cake.

The living room, however, offered a different challenge. No work conflicts this time so we decided to split up the load. Lynne did the stuff she is very good at -- the ceiling and the small areas near the floor. It requires a fine, soft, small hand and she does that sort of thing very well.

My job was to do the large walls. As I started in on the first wall, I became aware of a pair of eyes watching me with mild disapproval.

"Why are you doing it that way?" she said, referring to my horizontal, broad brush approach.

"It's easier and I like doing it that way," I replied, unaware this was not the desired answer.

Lynne went back to her area but observed, "It might work better if you took the V (or maybe it was W -- some letter like that) approach but do it however you want."

I think this is code for "You have no idea what you are doing but you are going to do it anyway. Maybe it will work out."

A few minutes later, I felt the eyes again.

"Are you going to paint that area, too?" she asked, pointing to a smaller wall that had not been touched yet.

"In a minute, dear. Let me finish this."

I believe her reply was "Hrrmph."

Shortly thereafter she developed a serious sneezing attack. This probably occurred because of her allergy problems but I am not ruling out the possibility that my painting style contributed to it.

Anybody that ever had something like this can guess what happened next: after the sneezing finally stops (it can go on for up to a half-hour or so), you are so exhausted you need to take a nap. Lynne did so and the paint job went along a helluva lot smoother. By the time she woke up, the task was complete. Lynne said the walls looked good. Huzzah.

One fine afternoon a few weeks later, we headed downstairs to "help" the guy working on the basement. After an adventure in placing insulation near the ceiling (my first question was: "Do we glue it up there?" Rookie mistake.), the time had come to use some tools to drill holes for some steel stuff that needed to go up.

Our guy showed me how to use the gun that somehow balanced a screw on it before it got drilled through a tiny hole to keep said steel stuff attached to the ceiling. It is a delicate procedure. Since my touch is more along the lines of Gene Wilder's non-shooting hand in "Blazing Saddles", this didn't go so well. Lynne watched patiently for about 10 minutes before suggesting she might be better equipped to handle this part of the operation. It my turn to hrrmph but she was correct. It also explains why the only chainsaw I am empowered to use at home is a toy one that is actually a sound effect.

I took up the task of actually drilling the holes in advance of her arrival with whatever that gun is actually called. It's all about knowing your correct role ... even if you don't know the name of the tool you are using.

At any rate, the job is now about half-done and we have managed to not to kill each other ... yet. There is, however, half a basement and two rooms to go so we are not of the woods. It's been a while but I don't remember discussions about these kind of situations in my pre-marriage classes. Perhaps there can be addendum to the next curriculum.

My neighbor came up with an even more ingenious solution to this dilemma. She and her husband recently repainted their house and I asked how it went. "I did one entire floor alone and he did the other," she told me. "Worked wonderfully." Hmmm. Wonder if Dr. Phil knows about this.