It’s sort of like camping, in an Ohio winter, but in your own house.
We are on day 18 of a full kitchen renovation. The 1987 original has MORE than lived its life. It was mostly dead when we moved in fourteen years ago but life happened (so very much life) and here we belatedly begin- after vacuuming up bits of flooring for the past several years (just keepin’ it classy).
So far I’ve learned:
- Everything kitchen-related now takes longer to do. Coffee from the Keurig? Sure, just fill the reservoir in the half-bath sink (where the reservoir doesn’t really fit, but no matter), then carry it sloshing across the family room to the makeshift kitchen counter. If the electric is working in the overhead lights then you can see. If not, use the flashlight on your phone, but good luck holding it and that reservoir with one hand (if there’s any water left in it anyway after the traipse across the room). Half-and-half is in the fridge, temporarily parked in the bay window behind the kitchen table, 12 steps away. Take the coffee to the fridge, forget a spoon, walk back to the Keurig for a plastic spoon from the box on the table, back to the half-and-half. Pour, stir. Sugar? It’s by the Keurig. Five minutes after starting you have a luke-warm cup of coffee.
- Dishes. Contribute to the landfill or: wipe everything with many, many paper towels (hello, landfill), then add these still dirty dishes to the wash basin. Once it’s full, or when you no longer have to-go cups for lukewarm coffee, fill the basin with suds and hot water, from the half-bath sink (where the basin doesn’t really fit, but no matter). Entertain yourself by singing along to music, making faces in the bathroom mirror as you wash dishes, rinse in the sink, then drop them in the basin that has the drying rack in it, which fits conveniently on the closed toilet lid. Be sure to remove the toilet paper from the holder before starting dishes, as it will appear already used thanks to many splashes of dish water if you leave it on the dispenser. Take overflowing basin of wet but clean dishes closer to the family room fireplace in hopes that the heat will speed up the drying process. Maybe just contribute to the landfill, no?
- Food. Hunt for food in the fridge, the garage, the family room, the basement pantry. Warm food in the microwave that is currently sitting on two kitchen chairs behind the table and next to the fridge. Snacks. Maybe don’t bother? But if you must: hunt for food, then for a container to hold a serving (but do you really want to wash it? Maybe just eat out of the bag). Hunt fruitlessly for a clip to hold the bag closed. What’s a little sawdust in your Cheez-its?
- Ice. The fridge has a dispenser, but the water line is unconnected. After many errands out, finally remember to buy a bag of ice. Since it’s from Costco, it’s enormous. And frozen solid. Mutilate the bag in the garage and pour some ice into the dispenser bin in the fridge. The worm drive doesn’t actually like these cubes so never mind. Keep the giant bag in the garage, bust a hole in the side trying to break up the giant frozen glob of ice, fling ice cubes across the garage. Find three clean cubes to put in your cup.
- Any of the many, many design decisions will be so fraught with indecision you will be nearly paralyzed by the choices. You’re picking something that will almost last forever. Phone a friend, or twenty, and get twenty different opinions to further muddle your decision-making process.
I could keep going with my pithy observations about this season, but the reality of it all is I am so grateful to be giving our kitchen an overhaul that it is NO BIG DEAL. The contractor we have is a wonderful human, and the people who work for him are equally great. The electrician brought me a donut for cry eye (just me, not my family- though he did bring them a box before he brought me one).
When it’s all said and done and the new kitchen is sparkly shiny new, with really lovely details and design (thanks to a designer friend who shared her expertise with us), I’m sure I will never tire of a fully functional pantry with pull-out shelves, soft-close cabinets and SO. MUCH. STORAGE.
Even still, it all pales.
Christmas came and went in a blur this year thanks to COVID shutting down most of our plans and dictating I steer the last few days solo while hubs quarantined in our basement. I cried (a little), prayed (a lot) and slogged through a few days when everyone would’ve rather I faked-it-til-I-made-it a little better than I did. Regardless of the carol, virtual church service, devotional, or scripture, the Christmas message never sunk in, until a few days ago when I read about how the world would be now if there had been no Jesus then. THAT hit home. THAT brought God’s greatest gift, His biggest sacrifice, to the center of my heart.
No matter what magical things are happening in our kitchen as I type, no matter how lovely it is in the end, ALL of it pales- NONE of it compares- to the beauty of our permanent home, and the only way we can get there is through the best Christmas gift ever. It’s January already but God’s gift keeps on giving and He will never be outshone, not even by brilliant new granite kitchen countertops.