The kitchen-- Or: Why Nothing is Ever Simple
April 27, 2008: Welcome to my little corner of the Universe. I have decided blogging is an idea who's time has come.
We began kitchen renovations on Wednesday of this week. I need to vent. Hey, why not? Our house was built in 1931. Well before we bought it, there was a fire. Did we know there was a fire? No. But it was a cute house in our price range and we bought it. We discovered a lot of smoke damage after we bought it-- when I was cleaning. Knowing there was a fire probably would not have changed our opinion of the house, but since we have been there for 15 years, the point is moot. So-- on to the story of the kitchen. On Wednesday, April 23rd, a couple of guys showed up with a truck to gut the kitchen. I KNEW it would be a mess because I have been through a kitchen demolition before when I was a lot younger. We also did the bathroom here a few years ago. I have discovered through this process that patience does not increase with a person's age.So "Juan One-Thumb" and his pal show up to do the kitchen. I ask Juan what happened to his thumb. He says he lost it in Mexico. I take this as a bad sign. Anyway, I have never seen-- or actually heard -- two guys work as hard as they did. They pulled down the walls of our kitchen (my husband had traken down the cabinets and moved the appliances) and then the two kitchens beneath it. Steel beams, fake walls, plaster with chicken-wire support, the worst of the worst. And the fake 1970s brick facing on the walls. Oh yes, did I mention there was a fire in the house ? Everything had the most interesting pattern from the smoke damage. Then my husband (the long-suffering and ever-loving Paul) looked at what I thought was some lathe from the crawl space above the kitchen. NOPE. It was the underside of the old ROOF. Not the outside roof, but a roof the was COVERED OVER after the fire. So, we have been living with 5 layers of asbsetos shingles within the kitchen ceiling. Lucky that neither of us have asthma.Needless to say, Paul took it all down. He looked like an alien covered with dirt and grit when he was done. All this time I have been trying to clean up. I have been semi-successful, but most of the time I spend typing to avoid dealing with the unpleasentness.
Have I mentioned that I am a writer? No? More about that another time. I'll keep you all posted.We are off to dine with friends who did cabinet refacing for their renovation. We can commiserate over dinner. I hear a bowl of pasta calling my name.
9:23 PM
We began kitchen renovations on Wednesday of this week. I need to vent. Hey, why not? Our house was built in 1931. Well before we bought it, there was a fire. Did we know there was a fire? No. But it was a cute house in our price range and we bought it. We discovered a lot of smoke damage after we bought it-- when I was cleaning. Knowing there was a fire probably would not have changed our opinion of the house, but since we have been there for 15 years, the point is moot. So-- on to the story of the kitchen. On Wednesday, April 23rd, a couple of guys showed up with a truck to gut the kitchen. I KNEW it would be a mess because I have been through a kitchen demolition before when I was a lot younger. We also did the bathroom here a few years ago. I have discovered through this process that patience does not increase with a person's age.So "Juan One-Thumb" and his pal show up to do the kitchen. I ask Juan what happened to his thumb. He says he lost it in Mexico. I take this as a bad sign. Anyway, I have never seen-- or actually heard -- two guys work as hard as they did. They pulled down the walls of our kitchen (my husband had traken down the cabinets and moved the appliances) and then the two kitchens beneath it. Steel beams, fake walls, plaster with chicken-wire support, the worst of the worst. And the fake 1970s brick facing on the walls. Oh yes, did I mention there was a fire in the house ? Everything had the most interesting pattern from the smoke damage. Then my husband (the long-suffering and ever-loving Paul) looked at what I thought was some lathe from the crawl space above the kitchen. NOPE. It was the underside of the old ROOF. Not the outside roof, but a roof the was COVERED OVER after the fire. So, we have been living with 5 layers of asbsetos shingles within the kitchen ceiling. Lucky that neither of us have asthma.Needless to say, Paul took it all down. He looked like an alien covered with dirt and grit when he was done. All this time I have been trying to clean up. I have been semi-successful, but most of the time I spend typing to avoid dealing with the unpleasentness.
Have I mentioned that I am a writer? No? More about that another time. I'll keep you all posted.We are off to dine with friends who did cabinet refacing for their renovation. We can commiserate over dinner. I hear a bowl of pasta calling my name.
9:23 PM
posted by Monica E. Spence | 8:16 AM
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