23 Sep Sexilicious Men (and houses) – When Fantasy meets Reality
The nice thing about being married to a man who owns his own construction company, is he can design AND build your house for you. The Hot Man is freakishly clever like that. How lucky am I??? I went out with him for his sexilicious self and had no clue he actually had like…skills…talents…housebuilding moneymaking potential… But then that’s the thing about only marrying people for their sexilicious-ness, everything else is a surprise. (Or disappointment as the case may be…)
But I digress. We’re moving back to Samoa in a few months and since we sold our old home, the Hot Man has to build us a new one over there. He was getting a little stressed, worrying about the costs and hassle of relocating. (As he does.) And I was blissfully thinking of how wonderful its going to be to go home. In other words, not thinking about such MINOR details like money, packing, or building a house in the blazing hot sun. (As I do.) But I am not a cold, heartless wife. Oh no. I noted his concerns and rushed to assuage them. Magnanimously.
“Daahling, don’t worry. We don’t need a big, expensive house. No, no, no. All we need is a little space to call our own. As long as it has a roof on it, we will be fine. As long as we’re all together. Why, a little bungalow in the bush is all we need!”
I had delightful visions of something like this…rustic and reserved.
Somewhat comforted, the Hot Man started the design plans for our new house. And I felt good about being such a good wife. And continued
fantasizing planning our new life in our new home in Samoa.
After a week or so of designing, the Hot Man showed me the design plans. I studied them carefully. WTFudge?
“Umm, but daaahling, where’s my office? I cant write books without an office. And that office needs to be air conditioned. How can I write hot romance stories when I’m dying in the tropical humidity with sweat clogging up my computer?”
He said something about the astronomical cost of electricity in Samoa. Pffft. “That’s why we’re going to have solar panels on the roof to power our air-con. That’s why you need to make a much bigger roof. We need more area for the solar panels. Yes, I know a solar heating unit costs lots of money but just think how much money we’ll save in the long run. And we’ll be eco-friendly too! Maybe we could have wind turbines in the front yard as well….”
I studied the plans some more. “This can’t be right. The kitchen looks like a cupboard. How can I cook food for seven people in a CUPBOARD?”
He reminded me that I don’t actually cook food for them anymore. “Alright then, correction – how are the teenagers going to cook food for us all in a CUPBOARD? You have to make that kitchen bigger.”
I studied the plans some more. “There’s no way this house is going to fit us. You can’t expect all those demon children to share a room. They will KILL each other. Rip each other to shreds. Or I’ll kill them because of all the bickering they’ll be doing, distracting me when I’m trying to write books in my air conditioned office.”
More studying of aforementioned defective house plans. “No, we need another bathroom somewhere. Especially for when we have visitors. And parties and sultry summer night BBQs.”
He reminded me we never have visitors. Or parties. And he didn’t know what a sultry summer BBQ was but he was pretty sure, we’d never had one of those either. “You’re hermit woman, remember? No friends, remember?”
Why must sexilicious men be so rude?!
“But I might be different one day. I might want to host scintillating dinner parties and tropical buffets with lots of intellectually stimulating conversation. And lanterns hanging in the trees in the garden! Lots and lots of lanterns.”
He wanted me to know there were no trees in the garden of our house site. In fact, there was no garden either. Just a wilderness of bushes, vaofefe and broken beer bottles ( because the neighbourhood has been using the empty lot as a drink-up spot.) “And I know you’re not going to plant a garden Lani.”
Well, he at least got THAT right. I don’t do gardens. “We can make the children do the landscaping. It can be their creative project. Oh! But maybe we could fit a teensie weensie swimming pool in the yard? For YOU daaahling. For your training for the Ironman. Wouldn’t it be useful for you to have a pool right in our yard to help you achieve your athletic dreams?!” (See how I did that!? Clever #GoodWife, right there. The blessings in heaven are piling up, I can feel it!)
The Hot Man sighed and looked dejected. While I was swept away with visions of our new house. Which now, looked like THIS!
At that point, the Hot Man gave up. “We can’t afford to build a new house. Forget it.”
“But where are we going to live then?” I wailed.
“With your parents. Maybe your mum will let the kids sleep in the fale in their garden.”
Nooooooooooo! I thought about Little Son and Bella driving my mum nuts and just like that – the rustic, reserved two-bedroom shack just got a whole lot more attractive.
And the Hot Man went back to his design drawings with a big (sneaky) smile on his face.