Occasionally we get comments like “I don’t know how you spend all day together without fighting.” While I appreciate the assumption that our marriage is endlessly cheerful, the truth is we argue. We get upset with each other… and with Clara… and even with Burger. I’m not talking Real Housewives-level drama (our table-flipping count remains zero), but like any normal couple we have disagreements. Sometimes they’re healthy—an “I’m upset because I care” kind of thing. Sometimes they’re less healthy—Sherry yells and I give the silent treatment. The point is: yes, we fight (skip to about 11:45 on that old blogiversary Q&A video for a brief mention).
Even though we’re open about the fact that we bicker, we avoid airing the gritty details of our squabbles. That applies not only here on the blog but also with friends and family—we don’t gossip about what frustrates us about the other person. It’s not about keeping up appearances; it’s about not complicating our problems by dragging other people into them. Usually we move on quickly—there’s always another project or post—so I don’t want a moment of venting to change anyone’s view of my loving, beautiful wife. At the end of the day, that’s how I see her.
Today we’re making an exception to share a home-improvement–related fight we had a while back. Lucky for you, it actually ties into DIY and house stuff, and now that it’s funny we figured it was worth telling. Yes, it was over a bathroom shelf—the one on the left in this old photo.
Let’s rewind to our post about painting our bathroom. We removed a glass shelf and towel bar that had been in the house when we bought it. Both pieces went into a box by the bathroom sink to be dealt with later. “To be dealt with later” wasn’t the exact phrasing; Sherry’s recollection includes, “Don’t donate these—let’s Craigslist the towel bar since it’s from Restoration Hardware, and I might reuse the shelf in the bath for shampoo and stuff.” My memory is basically blank; I don’t remember the conversation at all.
A few days later the room was painted and the art was hung, but the shelf and towel bar were still sitting by the sink, waiting. One evening I got fed up with clutter and went on a short but intense cleaning binge while Sherry prepared a post for the next morning. She was glued to the laptop in the office and didn’t notice what I was doing. I filled a bag with old clothes, packed up the old bathroom light fixture and—here’s where things went sideways—the shelf and towel bar, and put everything in the car to donate to Goodwill. I told Sherry only that I was running errands and left with Clara the next morning.
Later that afternoon this conversation happened:
SHERRY: Oh hey, I was thinking over Clara’s nap we should swap out the towel bar in the shower for that old shelf we took down. That way we can actually put our shampoo and stuff on a shelf.
JOHN: Wait, what old shelf?
SHERRY: The one that used to be on the wall. It was sitting by the sink in our bedroom the last time I saw it.
JOHN: You mean the one I donated this morning?
SHERRY: You WHAT?! John! I said I wanted to Craigslist the towel bar and possibly reuse that shelf!
JOHN: Sorry, I figured they’d just been sitting there making a mess so I’d help take care of them.
SHERRY: Why didn’t you tell me?? You snuck out without saying a word! I could have stopped you and explained if you’d told me!
JOHN: Am I supposed to tell you every errand I run?
It went downhill from there. Sherry got more frustrated, I got defensive. She said I “ruined her plan” to add a free shelf to the shower. I was baffled that I was being scolded for cleaning, while she was upset that I’d donated a $75 Restoration Hardware towel bar she could’ve sold on Craigslist for at least ten bucks. I sulked and said something immature like, “maybe I just won’t do errands anymore,” which, yeah, wasn’t my finest moment.
I knew I’d messed up and wanted credit for having good intentions plus a chance to fix it. So I raced to Goodwill to plead my case and ask them to pull the bag. They were sympathetic but the donation was already processed and gone. They took my number and an item description, but after a few silent weeks we accepted it as lost. We went with Plan B: the suction-cup solution you’ve since seen in our bathroom. It’s worked well, even if it wasn’t free or built-in.
This particular tiff is resolved. There were apologies, small concessions, and promises to communicate better. With the amount of time we spend together and the number of projects we tackle, another disagreement is inevitable. We try to remember we’re on the same team with the same goal: whip the house into shape and have as much fun as possible—ideally without killing each other along the way. So if you ever wondered whether we fight, you can now cite “the Towel Bar Incident of 2012” (or, if you prefer, “the towel bar incident where John was totally right”).
Now it’s your turn. Want to commiserate about a DIY-related miscommunication? Share your story in the comments—feel free to protect identities with the blogging equivalent of a blurred face and altered voice if you need to.
Psst—For a more detailed post on resolving decorating-related disputes, click the link in our archives for a deeper dive.