Usually I have this wife thing under control and manage to stay one step ahead of my husband, David.

After 18 1/2 years of marriage I thought I had perfected my technique on getting things done. You know the one where for three weeks you comment on how uncomfortable the couch is and how you never noticed the lumpy places in it before. Until, surprise, surprise, husband suggests, of his own free will, that maybe it is time to buy a new couch.

The best part about this technique is, later on when he is complaining about the money being spent, you can open your eyes real wide and say very innocently &uot;you spent that money, those things weren’t my idea.&uot;

Like all good things, eventually you have a little glitch here and there. For example, my husband and this house painting thing.

We agreed that there were rooms we would have to repaint upon moving in our new house and colors were selected without any swords being drawn.

Now, you have to know that it is a point of pride for him that he is a good painter and did it during the summers when he was younger (much younger).

&uot;Fine,&uot; I thought to myself. &uot;This will get old quickly, and we can move on to hiring a painter.&uot;

After taking a week off from work to get the painting started David is down to a little painting every night. I kept thinking he would just sick of it and throw in the towel (or brush, as the case may be).

Guess what! He likes it. He says that painting every evening is relaxing to him. And the more relaxed he gets the nuttier I’m going over this.

OK, I knew it was time to pull out the big guns. I happen to know that he despises painting ceilings. Trim doesn’t bother him but ceilings do. I had told him that I would take care of painting the sunroom. Mostly because my daughter, Holly, who is very artistic and will be doing most of it, volunteered to help me. So I casually mentioned to him that I thought the sunroom would look great if we painted the ceiling a color instead of leaving it white. And since that might drip everywhere there wasn’t any point in my starting on the rest of the sunroom until he got the ceiling done.

To my dismay he didn’t even flinch. Just said very sweetly that he would get to that next, right after this little bit of trim he was working on.

Now that is entirely too relaxed, and then a frightening thought occurred to me.

Either I’m losing my touch or he is catching on.

Christina Hall is the lifestyle editor for The Democrat. She can be reached at 445-3549 or by e-mail at christina.hall@natchezdemocrat.com