Another Fine Mess

The only possible fate worse than moving is remodeling – especially the kitchen. And more so when you weren’t even consulted.

I was over at church one day last week when The Squire called to asked me what color flooring I wanted in the kitchen. Say what? “The kitchen floor. I asked somebody to come out and give us an estimate on what it would cost to redo the kitchen.”

Now, this was a project we had been considering for quite some time, but apparently he had won the lottery or something and decided that Now Was The Hour. I scurried on home, and we discussed the pros and cons of various types of flooring, the timing, and the preparation we (that is, I) had to do. We settled on a sand stone colored sheet flooring (To me it’s all linoleum, but apparently I’m showing my age when I say that.)  We went on-line to see if we could print off a sample of the flooring to use when we look for countertops, but that was not to be. We looked up “Kitchen Flooring”, and then “Rendezvous”, which is the name of the line, but found everything but what we wanted. Bras, patio furniture, bedding…we tried again, and up popped the phrase “I have a rendezvous with death, in every department”.

Can’t argue with that.

And so, of course, “one thing leads to another”. (Doesn’t it always?) The entire job needs to be done from the ground up. First, Empty all the lower cabinets so the flooring can be placed under them.  Borrow packing boxes from eldest granddaughter, who just moved into her own home. The bottom rack in the dishwasher is shot, and a new rack is – dear heavens! – $185, but we can get a whole new machine for $250. OK.  Right now, there is a set of four drawers between the sink and the dishwasher, but they are poorly constructed and stick so badly we never use them. The Squire decided to move the dishwasher next to the sink, and purchase a new set of base drawers, which made sense.  I have no idea what that’s going to cost.

And then, we will have to replace the counter top. Actually, it doesn’t need to be replaced, but it was here when we moved into the house on October 23, 1974, so it is scratched and stained, but I can live with it. White Formica with gold speckles. Not too bad. At least it doesn’t scream Brady Bunch. It can wait.

What I have packed away are things I want to keep, but don’t need every day. A friend is taking most of my cake pans (I used to do wedding cakes) and a lot of “where the h— did that come from” is going to the thrift store.  There were also a few “Oh! I wondered what happened to that” in there to balance it all out.

Oh. After tearing the entire kitchen apart, the men won’t be out for another two weeks to start the floor. If we’re lucky, nobody will get hurt between now and then.

Wish me luck.