That husband and I, we agree on most things. But every now and then we don't see eye-to-eye. Take this weekend, for example.
I'm morally opposed to cutting through important things, like houses and driveways and basement floors and things like that. I figure if we can find a way to do something that avoids cutting holes in expensive objects (like houses and driveways and basement floors), that's a good thing. If we can't find a way to avoid it, I like the idea of hiring an insured professional, so when something goes wrong — and it inevitably will, someday — it's not our problem.
Greg doesn't really see this in such a black and white manner.
Now granted, I know Greg is brilliant. He can do anything. He's not going to screw something up by drilling through it or sawing through it or cutting around it or beating it with a sledgehammer. I know he's a detail-oriented perfectionist and if he screws something up he'll feel terrible and fix it the right way. He won't cut corners or use some jack-leg remedy to fix something. Especially not under my watch, because I will nag him to death.
We decided to obey the law (yes, I would prefer breaking the law over cutting through pricey, solid, stationary items) and install an invisible fence to keep Vinnie in. I'm sure you understand that, being morally opposed as I am to cutting through expensive objects, I experienced some trepidation when Greg determined the best way to install said fence involved cutting through our driveway. The driveway? It's only 2.5 years old. I mean, it's barely even dry yet. I was unequivocally opposed to this.
After plenty of good-natured wrangling, I finally realized that although it would work, my idea for avoiding a driveway cut wasn't really practical or fair for Vinnie. Vinnie would be required to run all the way around the house to get in the door. So Greg won. His victory, however, came with a warning from me that he should not expect to win any more disagreements for a very, very long time.
So Greg got to cut through the driveway. And I, I got to see how happy he was doing it, which almost makes it okay that every time we leave the house he points out the marvelous job he did cutting up our driveway. Almost makes it okay.