Countdown to the New Old House: Ambiguity

[Text in Italics reflects Spouse's half of the conversation.]

I went by the house.  Tile is halfway up the walls over the bathtub.

And?

It's fine.

It's . . . just . . . fine?

Yes.


You do realize that you're scaring the crud out of me right now, don't you?


Why?  I said it was fine.  Fine is a perfectly good word.  Like "fine wine."  

Um, "fine" is - well, fine - in the context of "fine wine."  "It's fine" has a slightly different, and less positive, connotation.  Is it not what you expected?  Do you not care for the tile?  Or do you not care about it?

Yes.

So you don't like it?
 
It is what it is.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO TELL ME.

It's not a shower stall, but I think you'll like it. 

Ah, so this is about you not getting a shower stall.

No.  It is what it is.  And, for what it is, it's fine.


I am killing you in my mind right now.  For the second time since this conversation started.

They also painted baseboards.

But they haven't put the hardwood floors down yet.

I know.  The baseboards are up on sawhorses drying, ready to be installed.  It will save time.  Assuming that they don't get damaged before installation.

These are long lengths of baseboard?  Floating in space in the middle of a room?

Pretty much.

Yeah, I don't particularly like their chances.  By the way, I just killed you again in my mind.

Fair enough.