Compromise is a Two Way Street

My brother called the other night and asked when I would posting another blog, and told him that as of late, I have had nothing about which to write. I could write what I had for lunch, or the shape of the latest hairball that has launched out of my cat's mouth, but I don't want to bore you. I have been busy with the mundane banalities of life: work, sleep, work, sleep.

Sunday The Rev. and I decided to start cleaning the house for spring, and it became an object lesson in how we have let our very expensive half of a house become a hovel. Perhaps hovel is too strong a word, but the cat hair that has accumulated in this house since Christmas would allow for me to projectile vomit my own hair balls. The vacuum, mop, dust rags came out and the dirt was scrubbed into oblivion. We only got the kitchen and living room done, but I told The Rev. that I would work on our bedroom this week. Well, here it is and I have decided that cleaning is so much more fun with your spouse and a martini. However, now that I think about it, I did clean by myself on Sunday because The Rev. decided to take his two hour post-sermon nap in the midst of me vacuuming cat hair off of the living room curtains.

Sunday night we sat in the living room and enjoyed our 1/3 clean, 1/2 house and discussed my plans to ride in a Mardi Gras Krewe next year. When I first mentioned it to The Rev., I was met with lukewarm acceptance, which kind of annoyed me, given that when The Rev. said:

"Honey, I will be going to Mexico this summer for 12 weeks so that I can immserse myself in the language and culture of our Mexican hermanas y hermanos."

I said:

"Great, I support you totally."

Now realize, I understand my participation in the riding of a Mardi Gras parade has absolutely nothing to do with the spread of the gospel, and actually pales in comparision and importance to living in Mexico for 12 weeks so that you can speak and write Spanish to do home mission work. Twelve weeks is a long time, and the fact that The Rev. trusts me to pay the mortgage on time, 3 times in a row, speaks volumes about a faith that trusts he won't come home to a sign in our front yard that says "Bank Owned, Make an Offer."

After some discussion, The Rev. realized that is probably wiser to surrender and agree to the terms of peace, rather than try to take the hill of "Mardi Gras is early next year, be sure to pack warm clothes."

"So, if I can, I get to ride next year?"

"I never got the impression you were asking for permission."

"Will you come with me?"

"Yes, I will go to see you throwing crap and shoes from float. I must witness this great and wonderful thing."

Honestly, I did not expect such quick capitulation, and I was a little disappointed to put away my battle plans of a Mardi Gras themed 4th of July, birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Hopefully, I will see ya'll on the parade route next year.