We are in an odd situation at the moment, where everything in our house seems to be giving up the ghost at the exact same moment. The couches have suffered an excess of attention from a teething puppy and children who insist on sitting on the armrests and eating while playing video games. The electric cooktop has thrown in the towel after being taken apart one too many times by our zealous cleaning lady. (Despite her best efforts, she barely makes a dent in the filth around here, but at least I enjoy a clean house for 45 minutes every other week, before the boys get home and start to systematically dismantle it again.) The countertop... well, it is pink, and the wrong dimensions for the new cooktop. And on and on right now, it seems.
Unfortunately, this means that we must shop for replacements, and this is where I start to break out in hives. Truly, with the exception of yarn, I would sooner stick red hot needles in my eyes than waste a perfectly good afternoon traipsing around some sort of store trying to make decisions about what I like and don't like. Because it turns out, I really don't have strong feelings either way, which makes the entire process even more torturous. Should I have an opinion about whether the countertop edge is bullnose or beveled? Does it matter in some secret way that I would know more about, if only I could bring myself to watch more shows on HGTV? I have already decided this means that we can never build a house from scratch. The amount of shopping and decision-making that would entail would put me in a strait-jacket in no time flat.
I know this is unnatural. I strongly suspect my LSH's family thinks I am a freak of nature. During the most recent trip looking for a family room couch, it hit me that they're probably right: I have assumed the role of a stereotypical husband when we are out shopping. I find myself uttering phrases such as "I dunno, aren't all browns the same?" and "do we really have to go to another furniture store? can't we just pick this one and be done with it?" The only strongly-held opinion I have is the more indestructible an item is, the better.
I tried to convince my LSH that he should be grateful that I am so content with the things that are already in our house. He'll never have to hear me say something like "oh, I hate these countertops and we have to do something about the kitchen right now." Truth is, if it isn't falling down on my feet in really big chunks, then I can probably put up with it for a good while longer. He countered that this only shows my complete indifference, and he's probably correct. Anything to avoid shopping for a replacement.