...So Now We Have To Finish the Kitchen

I got this for Christmas, from someone who shall remain nameless but whose relationship to me rhymes with "blister":

It's a soap dispenser, in case the hand model is not making herself clear, except mine's not so shiny-crome. Mine's -- what do you call it? -- like a brushed-y looking steel? But I had to go fishing for a photo on the internets because, well, I believe you know about my camera.

My blister gave me the dispenser, and she was so excited. "I kept looking at this," she said, "and it just kept saying to me that it wanted to go live in your house!"

She's right: it is smart-looking. Also, just odd enough to be something that ought to belong to me. Not to mention virtually indestructible, especially once you mount it on the wall. All in all, it really is the Perfect Gift For Me.

Unfortunately, however, this is what was going through my head as I unwrapped it:

Ooh, pretty... what is it? Ooh, a soap dispenser... what's that mean? Liquid soap? I don't use liquid soap. But I could. For this beautiful thing I would start using liquid soap. Which bathroom should I put it in? It would look pretty in the en suite! Except where would I hang it? There really isn't any room over the sink [without the camera, you're just going to have to trust me] and besides, all the fixtures in there are rubbed-brass. It wouldn't go. Well, then, we'll just put it in the old bathroom -- the one Johnny recently finished repainting. It doesn't go that well in there, either, but it's so pretty... Except putting it in there would mean drilling through antique art deco tile, and I just know that's bound to end in a gigantic hole. Poo-oop. Where will I put it? It's so pretty.. My god, Erin, say thank you, quick, or she's going to think you hate it!

By the time I popped out of my renovation reverie, remembered my Miss Manners and beamed across at Blister, the damage was done. She thinks I hate it, and she called later to implore me to exchange it -- which is something I would simply never do.

I hung up from that phone call looking dejected. I felt bad. I really did love the soap dispenser, and she'd been so excited. But, by thinking too many steps ahead -- which is something I simply always do -- I'd managed to take away her sunshine. And this is one sunshiny-blister, let me tell you.

Johnny saw my face and asked me what was wrong. He'd been asleep on Christmas morning when I unwrapped Beautiful Thing, so I had to start by showing it to him and then quoting the italic paragraph above.

"So?" he said. "We'll put it in the kitchen."

The kitchen! Where all the fixtures already are brushed-steel! And where we actually do use liquid soap, to wash the dishes! And where it will fit very nicely -- and be very convenient -- over the sink! Oh, Johnny, you really are my hero!

I held it up to the space on the wall where it will eventually go. Perfect. But there's no sense mounting it until the wall is painted. Which, actually, we really ought to put a tile backsplash there. But no sense doing that until we get and hang those last few cabinets. And if we're doing that, well, then those last few old ones can come down. And if those last few old ones are coming down, then we can finish pulling off the fake wood-panelling. At which point we really might's'well hang new blueboard. And it would be stupid to do all of that and not call in the electrician. Which means...

I'm going shopping for light fixtures!

Thanks, Blister!