Horror. Terror. Pandemonium.
I woke up this morning with a severe case of regret, convinced that the light fixture we—okay, I—picked was all wrong. Joe’s dad was going to the house today to mount the electrical box for it, and Roy was coming tomorrow, so this caused me sheer panic.
But, I discovered, there is nothing like sheer panic for inspiration. After a frantic online search, I stumbled across and fell in love with the Norwell brand. After pasting the ten or so different fixtures I liked into an e-mail, I dialed Joe.
“Um, I don’t want you to be mad at me. But.” Pause. “Iwanttopickanewlightfixture.”
Unaffected by my verbal gymnastics, he refused. “It’s too late,” he said. I commenced cajoling, begging, pouting. And did I mention today is his birthday? Yes, I am that awful. But he must be more burnt out than me, because he gave in and picked one from the list I e-mailed him. To my surprise, this was his choice:
Which, as you can tell, is pretty darn close to what we picked yesterday. Which he hated. Sigh. Anyway, I ordered it so it’s a done deal. And I am done with bathroom fixtures in this house, which is really too bad, because I discovered too late this awesome site, which lets you preview the fixtures in actual rooms. I am now wasting too much time planning my dream powder room. Because if this experience taught me anything, it’s that you can never plan too much.