If homeownership has taught me nothing else, it’s that the work is never done. You fix or replace one thing, only to find another waiting in its place. Or, updating one item leads you to realize just how terrible others are. Example? Our kitchen.
You may recall our summertime painting extravaganza, what with the laborious hours with paintbrush in hand, new handles and hinges and other varied tasks. You may also recall that we painted our cabinets off-white, which looked quite terrible against our already-terrible white laminate countertops and cream-colored walls. It was a major fashion faux pas if I’ve ever seen one in a kitchen.
Fast forward four months and a lovely sight greets me as I make my oatmeal each morning. It’s pure heaven. I love the brown walls, yummy grayish-brown Formica countertops and the fact that everything no longer clashes. The journey to Wednesday’s new addition wasn’t easy, but it was totally worth it.
Adam and I spent Tuesday evening unscrewing and removing the old counters, which was much, much harder than we had ever dreamed. You see, the genius who installed our kitchen cabinets put in the cabinet bases, attached the counters with countless screws and THEN finished out the sides of the cabinets. What this meant for us was it was impossible to remove the countertops, which were firmly attached to the cabinet bases and inaccessible from the outside. After some cussing and head scratching, we realized that surgery was our only option. With Adam’s jigsaw in hand and my fingers in my ears, we began cutting holes in the countertops to access the screws below. It was ALMOST comical, mostly because it was impossible to find the screws by blindly feeling along the splinter-encrusted boards. This is how I developed my newest nickname, “The Screw Whisperer” due to my uncanny ability to locate each of the many, many screws by hand.
After that hour-long ordeal, my next favorite task was up: hauling out the 20-foot slab of laminate to the garage. I’m just as strong as I look, so there were a lot of “breaks” involved in moving the counters less than 5 yards into the garage. There’s nothing stranger than a kitchen without a sink and countertops. I spent the rest of the evening catching myself before I threw a half-empty glass of water into the hole where a sink once resided or putting my cell phone on a counter that doesn’t exist. Really, I’m a huge fan of change. Huge.
I dreamt of horrible countertop-related disasters that night, only to be awoken by “The Call” to arrange for the district’s 2-hour delay due to the incredibly icy roads. School was eventually cancelled entirely, and Adam and I spent roughly 15 minutes that morning staring at the ceiling and trading possible horror stories.
“What if the truck with our countertops crashes and they’re ruined?”
“What if we have to live with no sink for a month?”
“What if they forgot a piece and have to drive back to Columbus?”
Also, what if we’re extremely paranoid? Everything went off without a hitch, and the counters were installed in roughly an hour’s time. My favorite part was watching them fuse the two pieces together with a contraption that appeared to be from a mad scientist. There were numerous paddles, wires and gauges that created an incredibly seamless joining of two separate pieces; very impressive.
After wiping the counters off at least four times to rid them of the dust that had set up shop, I stood back and was amazed…at how terrible the walls look.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Have you seen my motivation??
Winter does crazy things to me. It makes me feel like there are at least 23,849,732 things I’d rather do than run or submit to exercise of any kind. It’s almost as though winter has completely stifled my will to be anything but a couch potato. Then again, knowing my fate is running on a spinning belt in the basement may have something to do with it.
The summer me would shake her finger at the winter me, what with my affinity for the couch, sweat pants and snuggly socks instead of technical tees, merry outdoor jaunts and stretchy running tights. All I want to do is snack on roasted almonds while watching a mindless reality show; where’s the crime in that?
Last year, we dropped our moderately-priced memberships to the YMCA and instead invested in home exercise equipment and a treadmill. We’ll work out at home, we said while the sun wasn’t setting at 5 PM and snow was just a distant memory. Now, I drive home in the dark and despite Rudi’s whines at the sight of my running shoes, I begrudgingly head to the basement to submit to a 45-minute spin on the treadmill if the mood hits me. If I said it hasn’t gotten old, I’d be a big ol’ liar.
Exercise is a funny thing; it seems like an awful task until you get started. Memories of how good it makes you feel and look come flooding back almost immediately, causing you to wonder why you avoided it in the first place. It’s the getting there that becomes the difficult part, especially when it means heading below ground to your home’s basement.
Living in a locale where sidewalks are non-existent and the speed limit is 55 MPH also tends to cramp my style in the winter months. I mean, when it’s dark and snowy outside, I place a priority on my life rather than how muscular my calves will look in my fab new shoes at this year’s Christmas party. When desperation gets the best of me, I throw on my reflective vest, pack up the dog and we drive “into town” where they have technological advances like street lights and sidewalks. What in tarnation are them fancy things?!?
Truthfully, when the conditions are just right, running in the cool winter’s night is a spectacular outing. The Christmas lights are glowing, the air is nice and crisp and we have the well-lit sidewalks to ourselves. My sweet Rudi dog also proves to be an excellent navigator on these trips, ensuring both she and I avoid patches of ice with the greatest of ease. We operate like a well-oiled machine, watching carefully for cars and leaping after squirrels and cats when they cross our path. Nothing compares, however, to our daily jaunts in the warmer months that keep us both in the greatest of shape.
So, for now we’ll daydream about how nice a springtime run will feel from the couch while watching the Hills. Care for a roasted almond?
The summer me would shake her finger at the winter me, what with my affinity for the couch, sweat pants and snuggly socks instead of technical tees, merry outdoor jaunts and stretchy running tights. All I want to do is snack on roasted almonds while watching a mindless reality show; where’s the crime in that?
Last year, we dropped our moderately-priced memberships to the YMCA and instead invested in home exercise equipment and a treadmill. We’ll work out at home, we said while the sun wasn’t setting at 5 PM and snow was just a distant memory. Now, I drive home in the dark and despite Rudi’s whines at the sight of my running shoes, I begrudgingly head to the basement to submit to a 45-minute spin on the treadmill if the mood hits me. If I said it hasn’t gotten old, I’d be a big ol’ liar.
Exercise is a funny thing; it seems like an awful task until you get started. Memories of how good it makes you feel and look come flooding back almost immediately, causing you to wonder why you avoided it in the first place. It’s the getting there that becomes the difficult part, especially when it means heading below ground to your home’s basement.
Living in a locale where sidewalks are non-existent and the speed limit is 55 MPH also tends to cramp my style in the winter months. I mean, when it’s dark and snowy outside, I place a priority on my life rather than how muscular my calves will look in my fab new shoes at this year’s Christmas party. When desperation gets the best of me, I throw on my reflective vest, pack up the dog and we drive “into town” where they have technological advances like street lights and sidewalks. What in tarnation are them fancy things?!?
Truthfully, when the conditions are just right, running in the cool winter’s night is a spectacular outing. The Christmas lights are glowing, the air is nice and crisp and we have the well-lit sidewalks to ourselves. My sweet Rudi dog also proves to be an excellent navigator on these trips, ensuring both she and I avoid patches of ice with the greatest of ease. We operate like a well-oiled machine, watching carefully for cars and leaping after squirrels and cats when they cross our path. Nothing compares, however, to our daily jaunts in the warmer months that keep us both in the greatest of shape.
So, for now we’ll daydream about how nice a springtime run will feel from the couch while watching the Hills. Care for a roasted almond?
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