A good man is hard to find . . .

Especially when he designed my cabinets. So finally a few words about my cabinets. After looking at virtually every option, from IKEA to full custom, we decided to go with cabinets from . . . wait for it . . . Costco. Yup, they were right there between the giant package of toilet paper and 40 pounds of ground beef! OK, not really. But they were indeed from Costco's "exclusive" distributor, and are all wood, really well made, and came with all sorts of added bells and whistles, like soft close doors and drawers. And it probably goes without saying that the prices could not be beat. I'm pretty sure my correspondence with my designer, JP (really), seemed incredibly steamy - furtive phone calls and emails in the night, plus lots of photo attachments. But then poof, right there in my inbox was my design. And then there it was again. And again. And again. After the various delays and hurdles, JP took it all in stride and kept at it, re-designing the kitchen to accommodate every problem and scenario. I realize that's what a kitchen designer is supposed to do, but I didn't expect someone from Costco to do that.

The only problem, of course, was delivery. Not that there were any snafus, oh except the monsoon that decided to break at the exact moment the giant semi truck pulled in front of my house. No, the issue is that the cabinets are delivered "fully assembled!" And when there are about 200 items "fully assembled!" in the middle of my living room, it's just a bit crowded.

But believe it or not, out of this chaos came some pretty sweet cabinets:

That's just a start, of course. Not surprisingly, there are some issues. Like I ordered a big corner cabinet without a Lazy Susan. And one cabinet is too big. Again, my fault. But Costco is replacing it! Hey, do you think I will get my Costco rebate points for this order? Sure beats the hell out of buying coffee and diapers.


Not now, dear, I have a headache.

I fully expected this project to be full of headaches, but I meant that figuratively, not literally. As it turns out, the floors are causing both. First I was elated to discover the original, same wood under tile. All it needed was a little TLC and it would be good as "new." I know now how ludicrous that sounds; I suppose I watched one too many HGTV shows to think it would be that easy. There goes yet another fantasy down the drain. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Because we removed some walls, there were also patches that had no flooring at all. I was assured - repeatedly - that it would be "no big deal" to patch these areas and match them perfectly to the existing flooring. Every time I questioned the reality of this, my contractor might as well have patted me on the head and told me not to worry my pretty little self about it, he'd take care of it.

So now it was time for the floor. And,a big cleaning because all the dust-producing work was done. I did a little jig! Since we had already sent our dog to the boarder, and because we were all so sick of the dust and the stain would stink to high heaven, we decided to use some of Matthew's 400,000 Marriott points and check ourselves into a hotel. We only needed two nights and we'd come home to a spiffy new kitchen floor and a nice clean house! Hurrah!

You know what's coming, right? Yup. The floor wasn't quite so easy to match - particularly when the workers bought PRE-FINISHED wood that they thought perfectly matched my 70-year-old red oak. Um, no. After they consented to replace the wood with appropriate flooring, my contractor discovered he couldn't actually match the stain. Nor had he been able to bring the covered up wood back to life. So two days wasted, tons of points gone, and yup, no floor. He called in a flooring company because they could do the job (which, BTW, is still a fairly small space) really well and really quickly. And, he promised, with no dust, since we just had a big cleaning. But by now I did not want to go back to the hotel, so we stayed through during the staining. The smell was unbearable, particularly since it was raining and we couldn't open the windows. And of course, the no-dust claim was a more vivid fantasy than even I could come up with. There was a fine coating of wood dust all over everything, including the furniture that we had carefully covered and the cleaning crew uncovered. And the piece de résistance: the cleaning crew unplugged our fridge, which of course was in the living room, and didn't plug it back in. Which we didn't discover for several days because we had been at the hotel and then were trapped out of the room during staining, so we lost just about everything in it.  Palm slap to forehead now.

And this is where the actual headache comes in. Two days of oil-based stain followed by sealant trapped in a closed up house is a great recipe for a blinding headache, in case you're ever in need of a manufactured one, if you get my drift. But hey, we have floors now:

Good News, Bad News

Yes, I have good news to report! The good news is I have not gone on a homicidal rampage yet. Or had an official nervous breakdown, just small ones where I curl up with a glass of wine and whimper softly. So I guess that's progress. I was fully prepared for the usual time (and money) overages, but days when workers simply don't show up were not in my plans and are sending me over the edge. I have tried to stay out of it, figuring if I mother-henned (OK, nagged) my contractor too much it would make things worse. And the problem is I have known him for quite some time so I have been hesitant to be more "firm" (OK, bitchy) with him. But I'm just about at my limit. Because things are going from bad to worse (more on that later).

On a bright note, the walls are looking lovely, painted in Sand Trap by Sherwin Williams.

And the wood floor unearthed under three layers of tile has been cleaned up enough to save it. Hurrah!

So what's the bad news? Well, besides the MIA workers just a few minor details. For one thing, the overall mess and dust storm is starting to wear on all of us. I mop, dust and generally clean every day, but the plaster was like talc in the way it exploded and migrated all over the house. It is literally on every surface here, including my upstairs bedroom on the OTHER SIDE OF THE HOUSE. It doesn't help that Kit Kat, our dog, is so happy when people are here she can't stay away from them. So besides the overall sheen of dust on everything, there are paw prints everywhere. It stopped being cute about a week ago and I have now sent her to the farm. (No, I didn't put her down, there's a boarding farm we use).

The cabinets are delayed, but that's actually a good thing as the floor is no where close to being finished (which is a subject that will get its own post). And likewise the appliances are late and the refrigerator is on back order. Who knew there would be a run of stainless steel French door fridges? I'm not willing to settle on different appliances, as these stainless steel goodies were the impetus of my fantasy and I have designed the entire kitchen around them.

And then there's the subject of our second kitchen. It would seem like a great thing that we have a second kitchen, but it's not actually helping. We have it sort of set up, but it's really impossible to reconstruct everything. And then the other shoe dropped: the dishwasher in that kitchen doesn't work. So I have given up even trying to cook full meals. I have switched almost entirely to paper and plastic and I apologize to the environment, but I am just over it. I have made one exception: glass wine glasses. I simply can't drink from plastic.

This project has made me so tired. By the end of the day I am so weary I barely have the strength to open a bottle of wine (no martinis - too many steps and additional things to clean).

Inches Do Matter

I have discovered a few areas of my life where even one or two inches has a huge impact on me. One is CrossFit - the difference of jumping on an 18-inch box and 20-inch box is tremendous (you try it). And the other is . . . kitchen walls. My contact at my cabinet company said to wait to order until the demo was totally done and drywall was up to remeasure and order. I was very frustrated - why was he denying me my cabinets! What could possibly happen from taking down one crazy uneven plaster wall and putting up nice even drywall? How could that impact my design? Well, as we've seen just from removing walls to discover random, immovable posts, a lot can happen. Sure enough, the long wall is now a full 4 inches shorter than it was. Now that might not sound like a lot but trust me, it has rocked my world. The cabinets on this wall fit to perfection, but now the changes require odd measurements and since the cabinets are in standard sizes, it's going to take a Mensa member to figure this out. This is also the wall where the refrigerator will go and opposite the dishwasher/sink, so I have to consider doors opening, corners, etc. Why is this so complicated?

On a bright note, I have nice, lovely, even walls. With drywall and everything. It's not quite cleaned up yet, but it's actually taking shape. I can almost figure out where I'll be pouring the wine. Now if I could only find 4 more inches. . .

Pole Dancing in the Kitchen

Despite my best efforts, including enlisting an engineer, I could not find one person who would agree to remove the offending post in my kitchen. Oh, wait, one person did say we could remove the vertical post if we replaced it with a 12 inch header that would span the room. That was a worse option. And my contractor, who apparently knows me well, helpfully noted that if he removed the post, eventually the stairs would be uneven, but that might not be so bad if I were drinking. So OK, the post has to stay. Someone cheerfully suggested replacing the post with a stainless steel one that would match the appliances and go with "the look" of the kitchen. Naturally, in my haze, I thought that sounded like a terrific idea and promptly Googled "stainless steel poles." Let me just say that those three words put together like that yield some interesting results. Who knew there are also platinum stripper poles? I guess stainless steel really would make me look cheap. And now I have cookies in my Google that I am sure will one day show up in Amazon and Facebook (people have suggested monetizing the blog, but now with these words, I'm afraid of what would show up in it). Of course, this has now proved to be an endless source of amusement among my friends and the kitchen workers. Matthew, wisely, has stayed out of the conversation. In an odd twist, we have a crazy rule that we don't spend single dollar bills - we save them and eventually have several thousands of dollars that we use for a trip or something. When the 800-Got-Junk people came to remove debris, I wanted to tip them but only had those singles. I handed them a wad and they just smirked. Maybe I can pay for the kitchen in cash!

As if the pole dancing prospect wasn't enough to make me crazy, the kitchen is no farther along. In some ways it's worse.

But hey, at least the drywall arrived! Of course, when the guys started putting it up, they made one or two minor errors - see if you can find them:

Yup - no openings for the oven/stove electric and gas outlets! Good trick, no?

And to add insult to injury, the dust and mess are migrating to other areas of the house. The old kitchen table is in the living room pending giving it away (or putting it on the curb), and it's gathering clutter and dust.

Yes, those are martini glasses. Don't judge.