It has begun.
Earlier this week, a dumpster appeared in our driveway. It’s ugly. It’s smelly. But it’s a welcome sight because it means construction on our new kitchen is beginning.
Saturday morning, the crew arrived. Two days later, they’ve ripped out the old pantry, taken down a wall, framed in a doorway, repaired the hole in our floor, prepped two walls for sheetrock, installed casing for future electrical outlets, and installed 6 can lights.
Here’s a view of the back wall, which is ready for sheetrock:
A wall used to separate this area from the door beyond:
And I get so excited to turn on these lights! It’s the one part of the kitchen that looks nearly complete:
It may be a while before any more work is done. Everything has been ordered, but it takes time for the tiles, cabinets, etc. to come in. But I’m so excited that progress is being made, and we’re another day closer to having a kitchen again!
One very nice thing about a new job is that you have a fresh start. No one in the office knows you, and you can build good relationships from scratch. One bad thing about a new job is that no one in the office knows you, so if you make a bad impression within the first few months, it’s more likely to stick.
I am the office clepto.
The thievery started small. The woman who worked in the office next to mine quit at the same time I was redecorating my office. I had a new lamp. I couldn’t find a bulb. So I took a bulb from her lamp – she wasn’t going to need it! Besides, she was greedy and had two bulbs in her lamp, and I only needed one.
The problem is, there is a woman who is filling in until the replacement is hired. She works in another building, but comes to the office next to mine a couple days a week. After I had finished rearranging my furniture, I noticed that my desk chair really looked a little shabby. The desk chair in the office next to mine was one of those big, black, faux leather types that would look much more professional. Fortunately, my building clears out at 4:58, so I waited one afternoon until 5:01 and I switched the chairs. I asked one of my close associates, and she said it seemed a fair thing to do. After all, for me it’s an “every day chair.” For the other woman it’s a “sometimes chair.”
I was feeling quite good about my new office furniture until two days later when the woman came to work. I was running a little late, and when I passed her in the hall she said a hardy “hello” to the person next to me and a muffled, “hey” to me. Was I imagining that she was upset with me? Then, I heard bits and pieces of conversation during the day. I’d hear her say to someone else, “don’t know what happened.” The person would reply, “thought I saw someone take it.”
Maybe they were talking about something else, right? Suddenly, the chair didn’t feel very comfortable anymore. What had I been thinking? How stupid was I to take the chair even though the temp worker was still using the office? I shut my door so she’d be less likely to look in and see her chair (as if she hadn’t already).
Then the next day, I saw her pass in front of my door, rolling my old, ugly chair down the hall. I heard her tell someone as she passed, “I guess I’ll just have to find another one.” I felt really bad.
I could just imagine the inter-office chatter. “You’d better start locking your doors when you leave, that Ginger girl will just come take whatever she needs.”
Or, “have you seen my three-hole punch?” “Why don’t you check Ginger’s office, that’s where all the missing items seem to end up.”
“Can you believe that new girl? She just comes in here and starts taking whatever she wants.”
So that afternoon, I waited until 5:15 to be sure no one remained, and I returned her chair. I found my old one in a closet, and put it back behind my desk. I intended to say something to my office neighbor, something transparent like, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were coming back so I borrowed your chair.” But I never had the nerve. She never said anything to me, and I never said anything to her. But I’m sure she noticed the return of her chair. I hung my head in shame.
Then a couple of weeks later, I bought Lee some yummy instant coffee for home, when I realized we hadn’t unpacked any cups that could handle heat. No worries. I handed him a mug one morning, and he asked, “Where did you get this?”
“The office. I just borrowed one of the office mugs.”
He buried his head in his hands. “Ginger, you have to take it back. It has to stop.”
It’s just a stupid mug from a stupid hospital! But suddenly, I worried that someone in the office would miss it. “Have you seen that Memorial Health mug?” “Did you check Ginger’s house? I hear she took it home even though it wasn’t hers.”
I really am a good person. I really do respect other people’s things. My good friends at work know that. But some of the other folks on the third floor, I swear they look at me funny. And they lock their doors.
I finally decided on a simple black dress. A knee length number with a bias cut and an asymmetrical hemline. Dressy enough to say, “I care.” Simple enough to say, “I don’t care too much.”
When Lee and I drove into Fitzgerald for my 10-year reunion weekend, I took a hard look at my old town. In some ways, it looks as if the years haven’t been easy. Some of the homes I’ve always admired on Central Avenue need painting, yardwork, new roofs. I know some key plants have closed, and I worry that the economy is shrinking. I took a drive past my old house, and down Merrimac Drive where my old church sits. Across the street is another church – one of those with the marquees out front always bearing some witty religious phrase. I sighed when I read the one for this week: “Life is hard. Afterlife don’t have to be.”
But in a few places, new businesses are being built. There is a new Super Wal-Mart (I don’t know if that’s good news or bad), and even a Zaxby’s. If that Zaxby’s had been there 10 years ago I’m sure my blood would’ve turned into buffalo sauce before graduation.
I wondered how my reunion would compare. Would we all be like some of those homes – showing wear? Or would we be growing, springing up new?
The night of the reunion, I fussed with my hair the whole way to the country club, thinking about the old friends I looked forward to seeing, and the old enemies – the ones I couldn’t decide if I wanted to see.
When I walked in the front doors, I was first struck by how little some people had changed. Sure, there were subtle changes, but there were no dramatic reveals or shocking entrances. People seemed to have aged well so far, and were pleasantly moving forward in life. It was good to see. The bar was also good to see.
I knew a glass of wine would help my nerves. However, I rembered when I went to Lee’s reunion at the same country club last year I ordered a glass of chardonnay, and the bartender looked at me as if I’d spoken jibberish. Then she asked, “Is that the red one or the white one?”
This time, I automatically ordered two glasses of “chardonnay – the white.”
I don’t know if it was the wine or the friends, but soon the tension slipped out of the room. We were old friends again, talking and laughing again. Getting to know each other again. Of course, there was a small contingent of boys sitting by the bar, watching football and drinking from the bottles of liquor they’d snuck in. Some things never change. But I was proud of my class.
Before I left, I found the girl who’d organized the reunion, and thanked her. I said I was already looking forward to our 20th. And although I’m sure I’ll face it with the same amount of trepidation, I wasn’t lying.
Finally, I feel like we’re making progress on our kitchen. No work has begun, but we’ve decided on a contractor and have started picking out items for the new room. We’ve selected our cabinets, countertops, flooring and backsplash, sink and faucet. We still need to pick appliances and lighting, but we’re getting there. I’m hoping tomorrow we’ll actually see a timeline for construction.
There are so many decisions to make in this remodel, but so far it has been fun. And whether we go wtih a cinnamon stain or a mocha stain on the cabinets, anything will be better than what we have now – which is an empty room. Once they actually begin work, it’ll take about 2 months to finish the project. I’m just hoping we’ll have a kitchen by Christmas. That’ll be a very nice gift.
I was watching yet another home improvement show when a homeowner made a very wise remark. “This is a hungry house. Every time we get a spare $100, it wants $500.”
I can identify. But, I knew this house had an appetite when we bought it, and I know it will be wonderful when it’s full. But right now, the list of ongoing projects continues to grow.
We still don’t have a kitchen contractor. We got what was supposed to be our final quote last week, but we’ve since asked for a change in the plan, so people are having to remeasure and requote. Meanwhile, the toaster oven is still toasting and the mini-fridge is still mini-frigerating. But sometimes, I just long for a glass of sweet tea with ice in it. Ice. Mmmmmm. Ice.
However, our air conditioner is still blissfully blowing cold air. We finally deflated the air mattress and put it away again, and I hope we don’t have to use it for a while.
Over the weekend, Lee and I decided to work in our yard. There are so many things we still need to do inside, but we just felt like we needed a project that would yield immediate results. Lee edged the lawn and mowed the grass. Then, we cut back the hedges in front of the house. Or rather, we sawed back the hedges. There are three, and they are so overgrown they completely covered the front windows. Several branches required sawing, and unfortunately, most of the leaves were at the top of the shrub. Since we cut off the top, the hedges look a little scraggly, but it’s still a better overall picture because you can see the windows.
I also bought a hedge trimmer (nicknamed “hedgie”) Saturday. We have two beds of ivy in our front yard, and they were getting a little out of control. There is still something primal and wonderful about using sharp power tools, and I’m quite fond of my new toy. Hedgie is also therapeutic, because chopping up our ivy is a great stress reliever.
The first day, I trimmed the edges of the ivy, then started taking a little off the top. Okay, a lot off the top. My battery ran out before long, so I had to leave the bed undone. Then yesterday, after a full recharge, I began whacking at the ivy again. My battery drained with one little patch left – it looks pretty pitiful. And like the hedges in front of our house, all the leaf growth was at the top, so the ivy beds are looking kind of twiggy. Combine that with the random patch of un-cut ivy, and it looks a bit like my baby dolls did when I was younger and would cut their hair off for fun.
I just have to keep reminding myself that we can’t do every project at once. When I think of all we want to do, it can be overwhelming. I need to just focus on one room or one area at a time, so I can see progress.
I haven’t been writing much lately, but not because there’s been little going on. I’ve just been too hot and sweaty, too covered in paint, or on the road. But that’s okay, because I finally feel like we’re making some progress on the house.
Tomorrow, a new AC company is coming to replace our outdoor unit. It’ll be expensive – but seems cheap in comparison to the other company we’ve been using which swore we needed a completely new system. After we’d already given them serious dollars to fix our old one. Which they inspected before we bought the house. This time, we got a second opinion, and I’m very glad, because living without upstairs AC has not been cool. Literally.
We are still kitchen-less, but we will be getting the final of three quotes tomorrow. Of course, they’re all too expensive, but I’m still excited about the prospect of a brand new kitchen. This weekend, we’re going to choose which contractor we’ll go with, and do a little more demolition on our old kitchen. We’re going to tear down the plaster around an old chimney to expose the brick in one corner of the room. Could be fun. Could be scary. Could uncover loads of problems – but it could also look really nice.
On another note, I’ve forgiven the school across the street for a little while. During the mornings and afternoons, our street is clogged with mini-vans dropping off or picking up children. Sometimes I have to wait a little before I can back out, and the road is converted to one-way. Cars park so close to the driveway that I can sometimes barely get out without taking a bumper with me. I felt like the school had little regard for the fact that it was in the middle of a residential area.
But when we returned home from being in Miami this weekend, there was a pretty potted violet on our front porch wtih a note from the school attached, thanking the everyone for being good neighbors. The little gesture went a long way.
I’ve been avoiding writing for a little while, because the Hurricane Katrina aftermath has been so disturbing. There is a lot I think and feel about all of it, but anything I might say has already been said. And probably said better. By the mayor of New Orleans.
The storm was tragic enough, but I feel our government’s response to it was its own tragedy and a national disgrace. It has shaken my faith in my government’s ability to care for me, too. When the tsunami happened, I remember thinking, “How awful for those countries, without strong and able governments to help them through the crisis. At least if that happened here, we would be able to take care of ourselves.” But now I know that’s not true.
I ache for all the people in the gulf coast region – those who lost loved ones, homes, jobs, nearly everything. Even if they escaped with their lives, life won’t be normal for them for a very long time, if ever. I wish there were more I could do. I wish I could trust my government to do what’s right.
I am heartbroken by what I’m seeing and hearing out of New Orleans and the entire Gulf Coast region. A friend contacted Lee earlier today with an idea for bringing together the people who want to help with the people who need help. Lee then built the site for katrinacomfort.com.
It won’t help the people still stuck in New Orleans or in a place without power and without access to the internet, but maybe it can help some of the people who left town and now realize they can’t go back. Even if it just helps one person, it’s better than sitting here feeling helpless.
I don’t know what we were thinking. Lee and I found ourselves in a mostly unfamiliar area of town around lunchtime today, and were looking for a place to eat. There, in a strip mall, was a Korean restaurant advertising chicken teriyaki at a good price. The ad worked.
The restaurant was very small and no frills, but sometimes the best food can be found by stumbling into a dive and taking a chance. There was only one other couple in the restaurant, and they were just finishing their meal. I glanced around for the health inspection report, but assumed it had been near the door and I had missed it when I came in.
While sipping our drinks awaiting our chicken teriyaki, I spotted one. There, crawling across the floor, antennae waving, was a roach. A small roach – but still, a roach.
My stomach lurched and I thought about leaving, but I know in a town like Savannah, roaches can find their way inside even clean homes. Maybe he came in when we opened the door. Yeah, that’s surely what happened.
I pointed him out to Lee, we both tried to shrug it off. But not long after, I saw a second roach scuttling across the tile. Now, I was starting to get freaked out, but there was the waitress bringing our food. We were the only patrons in the restaurant, and couldn’t have left without being noticed. I don’t know why I seem to care more about hurting the restaurant owner’s feelings than I do about my own health, but it was obvious the restaurant needed our business.
I pushed the food around on my plate, looking for any sign of antennae. Seeing none, I took a bite. it was good. Really good. I had lost much of my appetite, but still found myself making a dent in the dish.
Until I saw another one on the wall. He was crawling along toward our table, behind Lee. “Lee, there’s another one. Coming our way,” I whispered. He turned slowly, and suddenly, we were only picking at our food.
I watched the roach as he made his way closer. Soon, he was practically a third guest at the table. Lee got the waitress’ attention, and pointed out the roach. “Oh!” she said, then followed in broken English, “roaches everywhere!”
That’s not what you want to hear. She continued, “Savannah a cockroach town!” I’m choosing to believe that when she said “roaches everywhere,” she was referring to the entire city – not solely her kitchen. She tried to catch the roach with a napkin, but he was no novice. He scurried into a crack under some molding.
I was thoroughly grossed out at this point, and completely on edge. A small fly buzzed by our table, and when the motion caught my eye I jumped. My knee banged the table and Lee’s glass of sweet tea rocked dangerously, but didn’t spill. “Sorry,” I said.
Then the wise roach came back out of the molding, sensing that danger had passed. He was joined by a friend. The waitress reappeared and grabbed one with a napkin. Then she came back, and splattered the other one on the wall with another napkin before cleaning him up and throwing the napkin away. Meanwhile, another worker from the back yelled, “Just spray them!”
We asked for a to go box, which I promptly threw away, and I notified my friends at the health department.
Now, I’m sitting in bed with a slight fever. I’m sure the fever isn’t related to the restaurant. Pretty sure. Hopeful, at least.
We know our kitchen renovation will be expensive, so we’re trying to save money when we can. We decided to do the demolition of the existing kitchen ourselves. We figured, if we mess it up it’s no big deal because we’re throwing it all out anyway.
The house was built in 1930, and I don’t think the kitchen has been upgraded since. Well, except for the layers of laminate floor and vinyl glued to the hardwood floors. The counters were built with 2 inches of poured cement and tile on a slope toward the sink, the cabinet doors don’t shut, etc. This is how it looked:
Friday after work the demolition began. I’m fierce with a crowbar and a mallet. And to be honest, I enjoyed it. There is something primal about destruction. It’s a good way to work out frustrations. It’s also a good way to get tetanus. There were ancient, rusty nails everywhere. We were trying to be good about placing the old boards with the nails facing down, but I must’ve missed one. I stepped right on the nail – it went through the bottom of my tennis shoe and I felt it touch my foot, but luckily I had stepped lightly and was able to stop myself before the nail broke the skin. Still, a littley scary.
The demolition continued into Saturday afternoon. When we finished, we had quite a respectable pile of debris in the middle of our floor. Our cabinets looked more like this:
And our kitchen is looking a bit scary.
This morning, we took all the debris to the city dump. That was kind of fun, too – throwing the old stuff into the dumpsters. Hearing the satisfying crash of glass and tile breaking. I think it’s satisfying because it’s the sound of progress in this renovation project.
Now, I think it’s time to call in the professionals. Lee will be talking to a couple of kitchen companies tomorrow, and hopefully we can turn this mess into a nice new kitchen soon.
