Apologies for the utter lateitude of this post: I was busy feeling every single minute of the four hour and thirty-five minute flight to LAX next to the totally awake and needing to acknowledge/touch/drink everything Susannah. (Interesting sidenote: right before the descent, she asked to sit with P.J. so I swapped daughters. And Suzy fell asleep as the plane touched down onto the tarmac. GOOD FOR YOU, P.J.)
But back to the kitchen. It’s done! [Ish!]
Over the past few weeks- see here and here– we’ve removed the janky countertops. Stained and refinished the warped cabinets. And my job (for the past week and a half) has been to mortar and tile and grout and re-tile and re-grout and super glue my finger to my thumb.
We chose a gorgeous glass mosaic tile because a) I have an unfortunate love of aesthetic and b) and over-inflated sense of ability.
Had I but known how incredibly sag-happy all of those miniature tiles would get on an oddly mortared wall (not to mention how incredibly uneven our cabinets/[walls/home] have the tendency to be), I would’ve just spray painted the whole thing magenta.
Except that spray paint is illegal in the city proper of Chicago.
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| Gosh, I look competent. Hour One. |
[Picture deleted due to Wall Rage, Day Four.]
[Picture deleted due to Ugly Cry, Day Nine.]
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| Ohmigosh, it’s a finished kitchen. Easy! |
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| You can’t even see the blood stains and puddles o’ tears and that place where I punched a hole in the wall! |
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| Who wants to come over and Not Use My Kitchen For Food Prep?! |
So yes, “new” kitchen at one seventh of the price. (Unless you factor in usage of your spouse’s thumbs into the overall cost. Which P.J. apparently doesn’t.) And I’m decently happy with how a large part of my home looks. (Or at least I will once I’m rested/re-grow the skin on my hand.)
Except…
Have you seen my “master” bathroom? I think it needs some attention, don’t you?
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