It occurred to me the other day that Tara and I do not share the same tastes in decorating.
“I’ve got a great idea for the bedroom!” she said.
“Ooh,” I replied. “Do go on.”
“For decorating the bedroom, husband of mine.”
She pulled up her Pinterest account and started thumbing through pages of ideas she is collecting for our future home. There are vases and kitchen islands and artwork and French doors. She was particularly excited about a crafts project involving canvas, paint, and leaves that would be mounted collage-style above the bed. Her excitement was contagious.
“I’ve got a Pinterest page for home ideas, too!” I said, beaming.
“You do? That’s great!”
“Well, I’ve only pinned one thing so far. But it’s really cool. Check it out!”
When I shared my lone decorating idea with her, the one item I thought would be a great centerpiece for the master bedroom in our next house, I watched her face fall before my eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“That,” she replied.
That was this:
“It’s beautiful!” I said.
“It’s pepperoni,” she responded.
“We can order sausage instead, if you’d prefer.”
The look in her eyes convinced me that it wasn’t my choice of toppings that turned her off so much as the pizza bedspread itself. I tried to convince her how cozy it would be to cuddle up beneath mozzarella sheets, to rest our heads on pillowy piles of crust, but she was having none of it. And just like that, another great decorating idea of mine was shot down. I still mourn the awesome dogs playing poker tapestry that she talked me out of buying a few years ago.
In retrospect it should have been obvious, this incompatibility in the decorating department, given how quickly my shower curtain came down and hers went up once we moved in together. Come to think of it, my bath towels were replaced pretty quickly, too. And when we moved to the apartment last year, the living room drapes inexplicably remained in the townhouse. “We have no room” is a pretty flimsy excuse, given the fact that the 3′ tall garish plastic trophy from her car racing days managed to find a spot in our garage.
HEY NOW, woman!
Err…sweet wife of mine…
At least she likes my lava lamps.
Mark My Words 
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