What do you get for the girl who has everything? The logical answer, it only occurs to me at this moment is: Nothing. That would be something that she doesn't have, and therefore logically it follows that to give the gift that will truly be appreciated and acknowledged, I should do just that.
Except I won't. I like giving her presents, because she seems to enjoy my attempts at getting it just right. Or nearly right. I buy sweaters that are too small and shoes that are too big. I bought her a punching bag once upon a time, and it turned out to be most appreciated - by me.
What to do then, for this woman on the celebration of the day of her birth? How about this: On a pretty regular basis, she greets me in the morning with a detailed account of the dream she has had the night before. The theme of creative architecture is one that runs deep within her. It could be that she is manifesting her plans for world domination in her dreams only shortly before they appear in front of us all in real life. It could be that she just wants more room for her shoes. I won't be buying her any more shoes, but I can do something about that room thing.
Lately, we have been experimenting with the attic. We put a floor up there, with the nagging possibility of eventually finding an easier entrance and egress than the tiny ladder that we have to climb up through a closet. That will have to remain part of the subconscious while we gather ourselves for a more practical assault on a stairway. The same can be said of our floundering attempts at making our basement more habitable, but so far we have only succeeded in generating a space for teenage boys to occasionally flop down on bean bags that have been dragged down there along with several extension cords so they can have the experience of playing video games together in what must seem like a rough approximation of a post-zombie-apocalypse bunker.
Can't go up. Can't go down. I guess we'll just have to settle for the bathroom. For the past several years, there has been a wish for an upgrade of some measure in our master bath. The fear of changing plumbing fixtures now far behind me, I felt that I could challenge myself a little by tearing up the floor and replacing it with something that will be new to us, which will be magic compared to the linoleum which greeted us upon our arrival eighteen years ago. And she'll get that sink that she has been wishing for almost as long.
A dream partially fulfilled, since the bathtub and tile continue to be of a vintage known only to the previous owners of the house, and perhaps before that. In time, that too will feel the move and shake of our homeowner's whims. For now, half the bathroom will be the nothing that I give the girl who has everything. She's got me, after all. Happy birthday.