Avery and Jordan are recently-married, high school sweethearts, looking to save their relationship from the quarantine tensions of her mother-in-law’s home and lock down their love with a 35-year mortgage.
Her: A craft room where we can collage our future children.
Him: A tech-free room with a fully-stocked bar and sexy Twister.
Her: A mud room so he finally has a place to leave his shoes instead of all over the house.
Him: A guest room for my mom so she can continue to fold my laundry and cook meals the way I like it.
Her: Several rooms to decorate, redecorate, paint, repaint, tile, and retile, because I’m not crazy. You’re crazy!
Him: Lots of walls for me to continue to build my own walls behind.
Her: 20 walk-in closets so I can hide from his ongoing need to retell the same stories.
Him: A popcorn ceiling so I can count the popcorns and think about how I probably should have married someone like our realtor Jessica instead.
Her: A therapy room full of parrots that confirm I am in fact more tired in the “who’s more tired” debate.
Him: Fuck granite. Give me crystal countertops for blowing coke.
Her: Plenty of corners to cloak in clutter and then declutter so I can clutter them again.
Him: At least one ghost to move things around, slam doors, and touch me at night because God knows she doesn’t do it anymore.
Her: Lots of cabinets for me to unscrew old knobs from and screw new knobs into because unscrewing and screwing screws is a turn-on at this point.
Him: A man cave that’s an actual cave where I can mark off the days with my fingernails.
Her: On a cemetery so I can Investigation Discovery his ass, bury the body, and run away with our imaginary pool boy, Phoenix.
Him: Close to a SpaceX launch pad so I can Investigation Discovery her ass first and hop a rocket off this goddamn planet.
Her: A forever home because NO ONE’S LEAVING HOME EVER AGAIN!
Him: A second home for me in Splitsville once this is all over and the divorce is settled.