Let me scrape one last bit of paint off my hands and rub the sawdust out of my eyes before I begin typing. I am returning to you, dear readers, after a week in a hell of my own making known as kitchen renovation. I have spent the last week with no kitchen access, running around the outside of the house going through the garage to grab cold items from the extra fridge in our basement (inevitably, forgetting the very thing I went down for and returning with random food stuffs), making sandwiches on a card table in the living room and heating the baby's milk up in the microwave on our bedroom dresser (nothing says classy like being able to make microwave popcorn and change your underwear in the same room!).
While we only had the cabinets refaced, new counter tops (which have yet to arrive so I have fifty year old Formica counters balanced precariously on new cabinets - safety first!) and a new dishwasher installed, the ensuing chaos and disorder was enough to drive me insane and I fear for the day we do actually move out of this shoebox of a house - I will definitely need Xanax or a homemade IV cobbled together from medical tubing and wine in a box.
Said renovation was in preparation for putting our cozy bungalow (Sounds good, right? Gotta practice for the ads.) on the market since the kitchen was a total shithole complete with NO DISHWASHER. My in-laws took pity on me after #2's birth and bought us a portable one. And while I am eternally grateful for the hours it saved me, it had become a 200 lb albatross around our necks having to drag its heaving bulk in front of the sink each night to hook it up and then listening to its deafening roar as it ran. Or, alternately, waiting for Hubby to forget to run it every night because he didn't want to listen to it while watching TV, waking up to a load of dirty dishes and then running it while feeding the kids breakfast screaming, "WHAAAAT? YOU NEED MORE SYRUP?" So it was with great joy that we finally had a nice, new dishwasher installed when the cabinets were done and were able to drag the beast to the curb this morning. Hubby and I had fantasies of going all Office Space fax machine on it (and then having a drunken dance party in our living room, of course), but we restrained ourselves, especially since I think I'd pull a hammy with the leg-chop move.
After spending the weekend painting (I am the painter in our family as Hubby's version of painting involves no tape and results in the "camouflaging" of all our outlets and switch plates), and moving our stuff back in we have a lovely new kitchen. I will now have more time to write as I will not being doing laps around my house muttering under my breath, "Forgot the fucking syrup - again!"
Happy Monday.
1 comment:
Congrats on getting back kitchen access. Doesn't it suck how you only do all the fancy stuff when you're trying to sell it. I hope the market picks up and your lovely, cozy bungalow sells quickly! Moving anywhere fun?
Post a Comment