STRANGER THAN FICTION: GUERRILLA DECORATING MAKES FOR ALL-OUT WAR AT HOME

The Other Half has developed a new, irritating habit that's taxing our marriage.

I call it "guerrilla decorating." It's when he lets me believe I'll be the one decorating certain rooms of our new home, when in reality he'll be changing pretty much everything I do. He makes the changes during quick, sneak attacks while I'm at the office.

Maybe it's stupid to even worry about who decorates what. But let's face it: My husband has a few problems with decor, as far as I'm concerned. Given his own way, our entire home would be done in black and white -- not coincidentally, the colors in the checkered flag used during televised NASCAR events, also the colors in the logo of the New World Order wrestling organization.

He also hangs everything using a tape measure, so that various sports-related posters are exactly 10.5 centimeters apart on the white wall, which is accented by black curtains. That's how he's decorated our home office.

I'm more of a just-go-with-it kind of person. If anything loosely matches the sofa, it's in there!

It would be fine if we just stuck with our room decorating assignments. He got the guest bedroom, the office and the kitchen. I got the living room, dining room and master bedroom. The bathrooms were up for grabs.

I remember nodding with satisfaction at our living room one day and leaving for work. It took me awhile that night to notice things were a little askew.

A couple picture frames were reversed on the bookshelf. The candelabras I'd put on the coffee table were on the entertainment center, the ceramic Franklin Mint bird my grandmother gave me was on the coffee table. The miniature lamp was gone from the top of the television.

Maybe I've lost my mind, I thought. Surely my 27-year-old husband with his hemp necklace, goatee and silver hoop earring isn't worried about whether a ceramic bird is on the entertainment center or the coffee table.

But he fessed up. "I just thought it looked better," he said. We had a deal, I told him. He had his rooms to do, I had mine. "But nobody sees the rooms I'm doing," he said.

Exactly.

It sounds petty, but my home decor is important to me. For the first time in our marriage, we don't own any plastic furniture. You know, like those plastic bookshelves from major discount department stores that sag in the middle if you put anything heavier than "The Cat in the Hat" on them.

We started out with a couch that actually turned two guests to stone when they stared directly at it. Now we've got a couch that was constructed this decade. Our entertainment center came in one piece from a real furniture store, not in a flat box carried past signs advertising low, low prices ... always.

So The Other Half and I came to an understanding. He changes around my knick-knacks while I'm at work, I flame his 10-year-old copies of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue when HE'S at work.

Now all I have to do is get my deposit back on our old apartment. I called there the other day and was treated like a crazy person. I know, because it was how I treat crazy people when they call me at work.

ANGELA: Windwood Place, this is Angela, may I help you?

ME: Yes, this is Heidi, formerly of apartment 1001. I moved out two weeks ago and still haven't gotten my deposit, but the woman I gave my key to said it would be only two weeks.

ANGELA: Your contract actually said four to six weeks.

ME: THAT'S INSANE! THAT IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE! (Long silence.)

ANGELA: Ummmm, they have to send it out of Indianapolis.

ME: OK. Is there anyone up there I can call?

ANGELA: One moment please. (Long pause while she gets her boss.)

MICHELLE: (In a soothing tone.) Heidi, this is Michelle. How are you doing?

ME: Fine, except for one thing. I'm broke and eating cat food to survive, because I had to pay all my deposits at this place without getting my money back from you.

Long story short, I don't have my money. I'm considering a trip to Indianapolis to get it.

Except I can't possibly leave the house. Mr. Half will change everything.

~Heidi Nieland is a former staff writer for the Southeast Missourian who now lives in Pensacola, Fla.