Marriage: the story so far

Well, it’s been a fair hiatus, and I’m giving up promising to post more regularly. I hereby undertake to post erratically and without warning or apology. Down to business: how marriage works.

Getting married is great fun. We had a big party, and it was relaxed and fun. I wasn’t nervous, and nothing went wrong. You really couldn’t ask for a better day. The Excellent Missus – who really is a Mrs now – looked hot, and I looked inoffensive. The next day we both woke up with bloody horrible headcolds. We spent the week in Bright at a place called ‘The Odd Frog‘, which despite the slightly crook website, was a great place. The days were filled whispering sweet nothings to each other; ‘can you pass the tissues’ and ‘where are the Sudafed’, when delivered through a block nose, sounds very romantic. Still, we had a pretty good view from our place. Check this out:

Anyway, we’re well back now, and getting set to move into our new place. It is weird that even though our day-to-day existence remains the same as it was pre-marriage, I have been unceremoniously shoved into the domestic demographic. Painting, floorboards and sliding doors have filled the last couple of weekends. And of course where there is renovation, there is Bunnings.

Before getting married, I reckon I’d been to Bunnings maybe three times. Two weekends ago I went to three different Bunnings in one weekend. True story. These cavernous hardware stores have more knobs than the Collingwood cheer squad, more screws than Ron Jeremy, and more timber than an Indonesian rainforest. No wait, that’s wrong – they have the timber FROM an Indonesian rainforest.

I spent the weekend wandering its enormous aisles, grappling with an insight into my future, and an A-frame ladder on sale for $69.95. I discovered I am better at pulling things apart (doors, clotheslines, architraves, anything else) than putting things together (see previous list). The Excellent Missus is born to renovate. Can’t get enough of it, and she’s very good at it too. She brings a vision, which is important. (I bring a vision too, but it involves identity theft and squatting in a house in Toorak for 17 years. It’s just not practical). And while I don’t have any urge to throw it all in and become a tradie, now that the house is starting to take shape, I am taking some joy from the progress we’re making.

But not as much joy as I’ll get from sitting on the couch on a Saturday morning reading the paper and doing sweet F.A.

And then I also went to a fundraiser trivia night for the kindergarten of my wife’s best friend’s sister’s kids. Again, I wondered how two months ago I was getting smashed with the boys, and now I was trying to remember the name of the purple Tellytubby. But the lure of trivia was too much. I left with a jar of jellybeans, a collection of women’s underwear that I suspect my wife was mildly offended by, and an empty wallet. Still, I was impressed by the kindergarten committee’s cunning ability to separate me from my hard-earned. Dead set, they should have just tipped us upside down on arrival and let us go. Early night for everyone. On the upside, the $80 I parted ways with probably would have only earned me a ripping hangover in the pre-marriage days.

Next up on the blog: Twitter – what it is and why it’s stupid.

Later.

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