Our story so far: We moved into the old Methodist church we had turned into a home and welcomed a few guests.
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Despite the minor inconveniences, visitors still came. A far-flung friend I made back in my corporate days paid us a visit, and she likened the church to a mecca (Mecca, for those interested in the origin of words, is the city where Muhammad was born; many Muslims believe it’s important to make a pilgrimage to Mecca at some point in their lives). My stories about the renovation stoked her curiosity, and she felt she had to see the church in person.
After the tour and my many comments about how much work this required and how we figured out that problem, she marveled, “How did you avoid killing each other?”
This was one of my concerns early on. Home construction projects have been known to end marital commitments.
“I guess I’m more flexible than some wives, and Tyler has better taste than some husbands,” I said.
As more than one of our contractors will attest, we raised our voices with each other more than once as we worked on various aspects of remodeling. Usually, one of us was just tired and cranky (sometimes both of us). But rarely did we disagree vehemently on the goals we wanted to achieve. Tyler was, among other things, an excellent salesman who could get me to see things his way, and I had figured out how to appeal to Tyler’s better instincts when the situation required. If he won the argument, well, then the results were probably better anyway.
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Today’s headline is a quote from Oliver Goldsmith, not to be confused with The Six Million Dollar Man‘s boss Oscar Goldman, you children of the ’70s. Goldsmith was an 18th century Irish novelist and poet.
Tomorrow: This friend gets inspired. Read about it here.