Believe it or not, plans for our kitchen reno are moving along. That is, they were until Roy suddenly took an interest in the project.
I thought we had a kitchen layout and cabinet style agreed upon a month or two ago. I ordered a sample door and end panel so we could see the real thing in its potential environment. I moved it from place to place, eyeing the colour in relation to the floor samples I had. I used it with my Benjamin Moore fan deck of paint chips to narrow down wall colour choices.
Then last week, Roy announced that he didn’t like the look of the door. Little did he know we were paying extra for the antique glaze and distressed look. Then we saw a Martha Stewart display kitchen we both loved. Problem is, the price per linear foot was $65 higher than the original one. Unfortunately I had to be the one to tell our kitchen designer brother-in-law to go back to the drawing board to get a new quote. The jury is still out.
don’t shoot the messenger, I said. In the skewed world of male-female inequity, if I were the one changing my mind so late in the game the howling would still be echoing. Because it was him, it appears to be okay.
But I persevere. I keep emptying cupboards and cajoling Roy into helping with the heavier work. Our electrician son has already upgraded the breaker box and said to just decide whatever we want and he’ll make it happen. I see pot lights, pendants, under-cabinet lighting, an electrified island, and enough outlets in my future. Good son.
We’ve engaged a guy to remove and replace the stipple ceilings throughout the house; Jim to do the miscellaneous carpentry and cabinet installation; and a gal to do the flooring. we’ll also spring for the first professional paint job of our lives. I’ve selected laminate for the entire main floor, but maybe Roy will surprise me there, too.
As I fill box after box of kitchen stuff, I realize that we have too much. Too much booze for a couple who rarely drinks; too many dishes and gadgets; too many canned and dry goods. Must be a result of living so far away from food stores.
We’ve decided to replace our old monstrosity of a chest freezer with a new, energy-efficient upright. The days of needing space for the beef and flock of broiler hens you butchered are long gone; families no longer freeze enough garden bounty for their seven children. The old cupboards will find new life in the basement and solve some storage problems down there. Goodwill has been the beneficiary of many donations.
I’ve refinished the top of our antique dark oak table and will reupholster the seats on six chairs. Hard work, tangible results; gotta love it, from where I sit.
Hazel Anaka’s first novel is Lucky Dog. Visit her website for more information or follow her on Twitter @anakawrites.