You may have been wondering what happened to me. I haven’t put up a blogpost in ages. Sadly, it is not because I was so thoroughly engrossed in finishing book two in The Double Barrel Mysteries. Although, I am working on it now. I was actually in the middle of some home remodeling and sort of fell into a rabbit hole. It all started in June. Here’s what happened…
Having men in my house, tearing things out and putting new things in, is stressful. Especially for someone like me, who truly appreciates solitude.
I now have NONE. No quiet. No solitude. No peace.
The tromping back and forth of men’s boots, banging of hammers, the high whine of drills, loud voices yelling over the drone of saws, radios, and various power tools, totally destroys my ability to think, write, or relax.
I am like a pilgrim in my own house, wandering from room to room, trying to avoid the commotion and stay out of the way. It feels like I’m living my own version of The Money Pit.
In hindsight, selling the house and moving across the country to raise sheep in a quiet little valley in Montana, living simply in a doublewide with no neighbors and no need for renovations, is looking better all the time.
The IDEA of a new kitchen and new windows was bright and cheerful, like that song Never Been Kissed. It promised something exciting and romantic, something to look forward to with great anticipation. Then the reality of construction hit like a sledgehammer to the temple and I realized that anticipated first kiss may just be my last. This project could surely kill me!
The men who have been here working are great. I’m very happy with the quality of their work. It’s What Lies Beneath that causes distress. When they tear out one thing, they reveal the secret mistakes that came before. Things that now have to be fixed before they can go on. Things that will cost at least one arm and one leg. Perhaps even more limbs will be sacrificed to the shoddy work that lies beneath.
I’ve learned that without a kitchen, I am a woman unfulfilled. I never thought of myself as the perfect homemaker, bustling about cleaning and baking and whipping up Martha Stewart type decorations for every holiday, but I did enjoy having a sink to wash dishes and a counter to chop on and a stove and microwave to whip up my husband’s dinner in twenty minutes or less. Now I am living like the Amish, but without the beautiful comradery of fellow Amish ladies to suffer through the hard times with while we boil lard or have a quilting bee or watch the men raise a barn. I have to suffer alone.
It’s over! Hallelujah! I have a kitchen again. A real working kitchen with appliances and running water, electricity, and countertops! It’s like winning the lottery when you’ve finally adjusted to the idea that living in a cardboard box and eating McDonalds three days a week isn’t all that bad as long as you have the love of your life beside you… oh, and puppies. Puppies make soft, warm pillows.
My new kitchen is a wonder. Almost too pretty to cook in, but I’ll get over it. I’m so tired of eating out that I may cook every day of the week from now on. Except maybe Sundays… and probably Saturdays because we are often running around… and maybe Friday nights since we have to have a date night, and who cooks on date night, right?
My new windows open and close and keep out the heat and look great and everything.
Now that the trial of construction is over I can say with sincerity that it was all worth it. Just like childbirth. Well, not exactly like childbirth. My pain was more of a mental anguish rather than a physical cramping, but as an analogy it works fairly well. I have birthed a kitchen and I wouldn’t give it back for all the tea in China. Especially since I really don’t like tea that much. I might trade it for a doublewide in Montana though with a horse and a helicopter.
Thanks for stopping. Leave a comment and tell us about your construction woes or just say hi! Until next time…