Second item on the list, I am left handed...severely left handed and he is severely right handed. We are always in each others way. We cannot help this problem. When I set things up, I work from left to right. Tommy works from right to left. When we were taking measurements for the windows, I wrote down the measurements as he called them out...from left to right. The only problem he was outside the patio and I was inside...which made the windows backwards or upside down or something. I never did understand what he was so mad about. Apparently it was really, really wrong. I thought the problem could be solved by just going in reverse. However, when I suggested this little idea, it turned into a big cluster smuck and we called an early day. It was either that or he was going to kill me. Two days later the windows are in the right places and every thing eventually worked out. I knew it would.
The next day over coffee, I mentioned to Tommy that I knew what our problem was...communication. We have none. He tells me what to do and robot and obedient person that I am...I obey. Not once has this ever happened in our lifetime together! Why does he think it will work now? I want to see a plan and then I can get it in my mind. He wants me to just follow his lead and fill in the blanks. When I fill in the blanks he really gets ticked off. I can't work this way. I am not wired to follow blindly. I need a plan...something visual I can see. I do not think this is going to happen. On the flip side we are more than half way done. When we get the window air conditioner installed, and the room stops resembling an oven, things will be much better, I hope.
Years ago after Tommy and I built the patio, I put a sign up that reads, "Psychiatric Unit". I placed it above the sliding glass doors..(which is another futile carpenter story. Here is the short version. Some how, when we installed the patio doors, I threw away the hardware for the door.) That could have happened to anyone. Actually, I am not even sure I did toss the hardware. However, I was blamed for the disaster. This event also explains the reason there is a wash rag stuck in the hole where the door lock should be. And that my friends was 20 years ago...neither one of us will budge on the lock. Actually, that isn't true. It happened so long ago we have forgotten about it. Plus we have become used to the washcloth being jammed in the hole. It doesn't matter to us any more. It is just another "Carter Story" we share. In reality we both have earned this sign and it has a permanent place anywhere we live.
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