Is it me?

I'm thinking of moving back to Georgia.

Don't worry; I won't stay. I just really need a project done in the master bathroom, and it appears that my living here is keeping it from happening.

David lived alone in this house for a few weeks before the kids and I came up. During that time, he managed to refinish our dresser, stain the stairs, take down trim I didn't like in the living room, put together a massive wooden swingset . . . and the list goes on. Mind you, this is not the person I knew before we moved. David has always been much more of a project-starter than a project-finisher. But, somehow when he was here alone, he managed to complete project after project without my even asking him.

And, yes, I have tried the "don't ask" approach; it's not working. It seems that my mere presence in the house precludes him from completing projects that were on my "Get done ASAP" list the week I moved in.

They're not little trivial things either. The two most important ones - and the only ones I would move back to Georgia to get done - are 1.) install smoke detectors and 2.) make the glass in giant round window above our bathtub NOT be see-through.

See, not minor things?

Lest you think that I, too, am okay with having our children sleeping in a 100 year-old house that could burst into flames at any moment, I have put batteries in the detectors. (To David's credit, he did go out and purchase the detectors . . . four weeks ago.) So now they are sitting on bookshelves and countertops waiting to be hung.

And then there's the window. Why anyone would put a HUGE window right next to their bathtub is beyond me. I assume most people don't want random folks on the street to seem them naked. Maybe that's just me. Plus, have they not seen the Seinfeld episode about good naked and bad naked? Even if one did want to provide a voyeuristic view for the neighbors, letting them see you in the buff as you climb in and out of a giant tub is really not the best way to go.

David did try one method of fixing it shortly after I arrived. He bought some sort of spray on stuff that people use at Christmas to make the glass look frosted. He sprayed it on, and that night he went outside to see if it kept him from being able to see into the fully lit bathroom. He said it worked - couldn't see a thing.

I was skeptical because I could see perfectly fine out of the window. He said, "I promise. I just stood in the street and looked. It worked." Not convinced, I got David's mom to stand in the tub while I went in the street and looked up. I could see EVERYTHING clear as day. Seeing his obvious shock and believing that he wasn't lying in an attempt to give the neighbor's a free peepshow every evening, a thought occurred to me. "Honey, were you wearing your glasses?" "Um, no."

That was over three weeks ago. I still have to get in and out of the tub like a hunchback at night to avoid flashing my neighbors. Either that or get out of the tub, dry off, and get dressed in the dark to avoid illuminating the bathroom, but considering how klutzy I am in broad daylight, darkness and movement is never a good combination for me.

So, the only thing I can figure that's different now from a month ago when my husband turned into Mr. Industrious is my presence. In the interest of protecting my children and my dignity (I heard that snicker), I must go back to Georgia. But, maybe I'll wait until winter.