Compromise

Rob and I have been starting to talk about various things for our new house in Texas-- what to do about phones, what to do about a TV, etc. This is all fairly premature, considering that it’s still another 10 days or so before our current house goes on the market here. Probably we should concentrate on selling this house before we expend a lot of effort negotiating whether we’ll only have cell phones or if we’ll have cable. Most recently we’ve been talking about our TV/entertainment options. Here in Connecticut, we have a dark basement that Rob has outfitted with a projector and huge screen and speakers and all the associated wires and whatnot. This likely isn’t going to be an option when we move to Dallas, due to the lack of basements and the unlikelihood of having an “extra” room for a dedicated home theater. Our TV is probably going to have to live in our main living room and it turns out that the two of us have very different expectations about what that should look like. I would prefer something like this (although Pottery Barn is out of our price range) that you can close so that the TV and all the components and speakers are hidden. Rob, on the other hand, would like to have something like this in our living room.

Go ahead, click. Browse.

OK, I am being a bit facetious and Rob doesn’t really want gilded columns and velvet curtains. There was serious mention of theater seating, though. Although I am horrified by the idea of those kinds of seats in my living room, this is a good opportunity for me to work on not demanding what I want. I usually have strong opinions on what I want or what I think is the right way to do things, but I want to be a generous spouse who gives Rob the opportunity pursue his interests and do what he enjoys. I actually don’t find it very helpful to concentrate on the idea of compromise; when I do this, I tend to obsess on who has compromised more, who is moving further toward the other’s position, and why it’s just not FAIR that Rob wants to put six ugly speakers in our living room. I feel more freed to give Rob room for himself when I think about situations like this as an opportunity to let go of what I think I deserve or am owed. We had this read at our wedding, and the idea of this as a model for human relationships is big for me-- not grasping for my own importance but setting aside my own selfishness. Of course, I am profoundly, terrifically bad at this, which a number of people from my parents to my sister to Rob (to probably every roommate I’ve lived with) can attest to. My baser self asserts itself and I wonder why everyone just can’t do things my way-- my wonderful, logical, insightful, brilliantly-thought-of way.

My ponderings on TV and compromise were interrupted this morning by poop. A whole lot of poop. I often deal with poop since I have a toddler in diapers, but the main perpetrator this morning was dear Abbey. She’s been having some digestive trouble in the past few days and unbeknownst to us, she made several messes upstairs last night. What a thing to wake up to... Fortunately, nobody stepped in any of it before we noticed it. Blech... If Abbey doesn’t get better soon, we shall have to go to the vet. She never used to have any kind of trouble like this, but this is the second bout of GI trouble in the last few months. I have a sneaking suspicion that the culprit may be all the food Grace drops. Just in the past few days, Abbey has pilfered an entire cheese stick, most of a muffin, and chocolate-covered raisins, among other little tidbits. That can’t be good for her doggie tummy.