i'm going home this weekend, and was planning on inviting our lovely friends over for brunch on sunday. alas, mister monkey's table saga continues.
having just realised you have no idea what i'm talking about, seeing as i've never mentioned the table before, i must take a moment to inform you of the fact that my husband is building me a coffee table. so far, this has meant measuring, cutting, sanding, polishing, buffing, followed by a dozen applications of marine craft quality epoxy, each layer of which required 12h of drying time and more sanding. i thought i would have the table for christmas... it is now february. there still remain seventeen coats of UV protecting varnish to administer, each requiring light sanding in between.
we do not have a garage. or a shop. we have a balcony, but because the table is of a weight roughly equivalent to a herd of overweight water buffalo, mister monkey has had to do the sanding in the dining room.
because he is a thoughtful sort, he has built a tent out of poly and tarps, with an air-flow hook-up to the balcony door.
when i mentioned that s & l would be coming over and to please pick up the following food items, he agreed. the second time i reminded him to pick up the items needed he said, yes, yes, he was on it.
the third time, ditto.
a couple of days ago he casually asked me where we were going for brunch with s & l. i gently reminded him of the seven conversations we had had on this very topic in the preceding week, wherein he had agreed to purchase the comestibles required for the brunch. the brunch i was planning on cooking for our friends. the brunch we would eat at our place.
mister monkey started fuming immediately about how could i possibly have invited anyone over for brunch! we have work going on! the house is not fit for company!
i gently reminded him again of the conversations we had had, suspecting at this point that he might, possibly, not have been listening. at all.
this went on, back and forth until i exploded, accused him of not listening to me, hung up and texted him that i was married to a mental patient and i was tired of the woodworking shop in my place of residence.
as punishment* i asked him to tell s & l of the change of plans. he emailed them that night:
"I hope that you received my phone message. We are going to have to brunch out in the town on Sunday because our home is unfit to receive guests ... i have built a yurt in our living-room. Please get back to us to discuss venue options."
today i was telling my fabulous roommate about this situation.
fabulous roommate: what is the yurt made of?
moi: just poly and tarps.
fr: i thought that perhaps it was made of your traditional yurt materials.
moi: yak skins? no, mister monkey did not send away for a "build your own yurt" kit from mongolia, though if he had, that might explain the rate at which this whole thing is proceeding.
ya know? i could have just gone out and bought myself a very heavy, very expensive coffee table and be done with it!
(who knew that in the course of several months yurts would pop up so prodigiously in this here blog.)
* as punishment because he is an anti-social type, allows me to do all of our social arrangements and likes it just fine this way