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Admitting error or fault is never easy or comfortable, no matter how old you are or how often you get to do it, but it’s part of becoming a responsible, trustworthy adult. It’s “character-building,” as parents like to say when they force their kids to endure uncomfortable things. Here’s the bottom line (thanks, hubby, now I’m saying it)… When you make a mistake, you admit it, you accept responsibility, and you deal with the consequences, right? I’ve recently been reminded that not everyone learns those lessons growing up, or applies those rules to their adult lives, business dealings, or relationships. Instead, the new modus operandi frequently follows this course: when you make a mistake and get caught… deny it, conceal it, then blame someone else. This mindset is not conducive to a healthy society.
A few weeks (months?) ago I wrote about the stress of home renovations. At that time I was writing about texturing and painting bedrooms and a bathroom—minor repairs.
Last month I ordered new flooring for our kitchen. Hubby planned to install said flooring while I was in Denver at the CPA convention three weeks ago, thinking five days would be plenty of time. As I write this Monday, we’re still two or three (or more) days from flooring. I can currently see three different levels of flooring every time I enter the kitchen. We’ve textured and primed and painted, literally from top to bottom. Note, I say “we” in the same collective sense men say “we” had a baby. “We” didn’t do all this work… Pat did all the actual work. I just whined about the dust and general upheaval and time it has taken. Whatever happens in the future, Pat gets all the credit. Just putting that out there for posterity.
Once again I’m reminded of all the reasons living in a small town is good for the soul. My spoiled West Highland White Terrier, age 11, didn’t appreciate being left at home alone Tuesday evening and found a new escape route. Pat got a text during the town board meeting from our former neighbor saying Archie came to visit and he walked him home and put him back in the yard. Thank you, Chris, for looking after my pesky pet!
Speaking of pets, we’ll be adding a new family member in a few weeks. After the loss of our female Westie in April, we started looking for a new dog. We’ll be getting an eight-week-old golden retriever/Irish setter mix and are debating on names. Current choices are Trixie (after Trixie Belden, one of my favorite book heroines as a kid) or Nellie, after 19th-century journalist Nellie Bly. Hopefully, the addition of a puppy will keep Archie busy enough he won’t have time to look for new escape routes.