So I love it here. I love living in the middle of everything, just a short walk to Starbucks and great places to eat. There's a great running store just down the road, which has taken the trouble to mark routes through the town with mile markers and everything. We have a Panera down the street, two grocery stores within walking distance, and the best ice cream in Chicagoland less than a 10-minute walk away.

I love coming home at night, and toodling around town. I commute 30 minutes a day, which is about 200% better than the Chicago average, and slightly better than what it was in Chapel Hill. I even have a bicycle I scoot around on. I look at our place and I see opportunity and promise.

Shel looks at it, and she sees a prison.

We had a long talk last night -- and it wasn't it fun. It boils down to how our life affects each of us differently:

• The Car. See, I have the car all day, at work. Shelley can walk places, but she feels trapped without the car. It's not that she has to have it for anything in specific, but the fact that she doesn't have it tends to make her feel closed in. I can offer to get to work some other way any given day, but that doesn't take away the general state of affairs.
• The Money Pit. No, our place isn't really a hole at all. But it is in need of some significant improvements: replastering the ceilings and walls, repainting in all the rooms, taking the mirrors off of the walls in the bedroom, pantry, and kitchen, replacing the sconces in the dining room and living room, and stripping the trim on all the moulding and baseboards. We are talking mucho dinero: much more than we likely will have at our disposal anytime soon. But I still look at the place and say, "we will make this ours. Look out!" Shel, OTOH, looks around and sees so much that needs work, and no dough to do it, and it fills her with despair.
• Launch Pad or Padlocked? I get to go to work all day, and I come home to the place. Shel's here all day, and can't go far. I don't have to live with the limitations of our home all the time. Shel does, and it's really hard on her. My little entwife needs to be able to bring order to the place, and the chaos is unrelenting.

So that's kinda where things stand. I'm trying to learn to listen to her when she expresses these things, without being impatient or otherwise buttheaded. And worst of all, I can't really fix it.