It’s about to happen again. We’re moving. Although we’re not looking forward to the chaos and disorder that comes from packing up a house and hauling it across town, we are eager to be living back on the beach. The problem is going to come when we begin to arrange the furniture and decorate. Most couples have no problem doing this. The woman decorates and the man keeps his mouth shut and signs the checks. However, I live with three ladies, who I affectionately call my girls, who have similar, and yet, varying tastes. They also run the gamut from very conservative and formal to eclectic and bright. My job, other than signing the checks, is to attempt to keep a balance between it all as well as tempers from being flared. It’s all part of living together in our home.
A friend of ours says she couldn’t do it. “I’d rather share my husband than have to share my house with another woman.” I can understand. It’s her domain. She wants it to look like she wants it and not someone else’s design. Her home needs to represent her worldview and decorative tastes. Her home is about her and I can understand that.
However, ours is about a family and it takes a little more effort to make sure everyone is represented. That’s going to require patience, communication, compromise, and a brand new bottle of Jameson.