Thursday, December 18, 2008

Gimme Shelter

I often comment to my husband that we make good partners. We complement each other well and are both relatively reasonable people, which makes compromises a little easier when we are faced with conflict.

Usually, we have a calm discussion and come to a mutually agreeable arrangement for whatever is happening. There is one topic, however, that my sweet darling has simply refused to discuss.

The garage.

With our condo, we have one garage space and one outside parking space. He bought the place when we were dating, so he's always used the garage. When I moved in, the outside parking space became mine. I had previously been living in the city and parking on the street, so at the time, I was content to have off-the-street spot. I didn't care whether I had a garage.

Last winter, however, was rough. Nearly every day, it seemed, I was scraping or brushing my windows before I could leave for work. The roads had never been thoroughly cleaned, which made the commute stressful, and then, at the end of the day, I would have to brush and scrape at the office before making the trek home to park in my outside spot, let the snow and ice pile on and do it all again the next day.

This winter hasn't even officially begun, and it's already been brutal. On Monday, there was so much ice on my car that I couldn't open the doors without help, and once I got in, I had to let the car warm up for a good 10 minutes before I could even think about scraping. On Tuesday afternoon, we had snow, which meant a two-hour, 16-mile drive home (or, more realistically, slide home, since there wasn't really exposed pavement to speak of), where my husband was waiting, warm and dry, after his own commute...of four miles.

I hadn't mentioned the garage thing much, because, as I saw it, my husband had squatting rights. Sure, it would be nice to have a garage space, but he's the one who laid down the money for the place. But after nearly three years living there, I figured I had enough tenure to bring it up. He was extremely hesitant to discuss the subject, saying he wasn't sure if my car would fit, as it is larger than his car (albeit slightly) and the garage also contains his motorcycle, two bicycles and a myriad of other stuff.

I took the hint. He wasn't ready.

But on my two-hour drive home Tuesday night, I had some time to think. Why shouldn't I have a turn? I leave for work earlier, get home later and have a longer commute. Isn't that enough? Should I really have to be the one who scrapes and brushes every day too? Is that fair? I worked up a speech, which I presented calmly (no, really) over the phone while traffic was at a standstill. Once again hesitant, my husband begrudgingly agreed to give me a turn. Or at least to consider it. He also shoveled out the outside parking space before I got home, and brushed all of the snow off my car before I left for work yesterday.

I could tell, he really didn't want to get rid of that garage space.

But when I got home last night, I found his car parked in the outside spot, and the garage waiting for me. I called him from my cell phone to ask what was going on, and he told me the garage space was now mine. I could tell he was nervous -- he offered three times to come out and help me get my car in so I wouldn't hit his motorcycle. I refused the offers and parked (quite easily and without coming anywhere close to hitting anything, thank you very much) and went inside, where my husband was, I think, hoping I'd tell him the car wouldn't fit.

I know how much he loved having a garage space; his resistance to hand it over made that clear, as he is not at all a selfish person. I thanked him profusely and let him know how much it meant to me, hoping he would at least feel good about having done something nice. I almost felt a little bad about taking the spot away. And then he opened his mouth.

"Remember, you're going to have to make sure to shovel out all the snow and water that gets on the floor from your car so it stays away from the walls. And don't forget, the pedal for my motorcycle comes way out, so make sure you don't hit it. And don't hit your bicycle."

Nice try, dude. That spot is mine.

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