My Kitchen Nightmare

Before I dig into this post, I have a major “first and foremost” type of announcement: I am eternally grateful for my under construction kitchen. I am blessed beyond words to be living in a house that I love more every day, in Florida, where the sunshine is blinding and warms me to the core. What I am about to write does not take away one iota from that joy and gratitude. Not even a little. Ok? Are we all on the same page? No ungratefulness here.

When we decided abut 33 seconds after moving into our new house that the kitchen would need a major overhaul, we got estimates and ideas from several companies. After we settled on the new plan, worked with the designer and got our vision realized on paper and decided to proceed, we thought we had done well.

Michael and I had never done a major renovation like this. We never knocked down walls, and torn stuff out to the studs and rebuilt. And by “we”, I mean OTHER PEOPLE doing the work. It took us 3 hours yesterday to replace the front door hanging light. But that’s another story.  I think we were woefully prepared for what was about to happen.

We were prepared for eating out and not having a kitchen for weeks on end. We were prepared to grill out and paper plates and plastic silverware. We moved the Keurig to the back patio and took Ryan’s mini-fridge from his room to house coffee creamer and sweet tea.

We were prepared to pick out our new appliances and researched and did side by side comparisons. We like to do our homework and double check it and then put it down and come back to it to double check again. This is life with a man whose OCD has obviously rubbed off on me. We don’t like rash decisions. Especially important ones. Especially not ones that have lasting effects.

Suddenly, life has become a series of split second decisions, with no time to wait. Do we want these lights here or there? Do we want the backsplash to come over this far or stop at this angle? And my favorite so far “Pick a number and that’s where it goes.” coming from the granite guys drilling a hole in my beautiful countertop for the above-mentioned air switch. “Pick a number?” He gives me a look like perhaps I don’t speak English and says slowly, “Pick. A. Number.” Luckily our project manager was here and explained that its the distance from the faucet to wherever I want the air switch. Ah. Ok. I picked 7. Seemed lucky enough.

If picking granite, wall colors, backsplash, door hardware, light fixtures, cabinets, faucets, doors and flooring weren’t enough, apparently we were supposed to be prepared to tell the electrician where each outlet went and where the light switches should go.

They told us that a major reno project wasn’t for the faint of heart. What they didn’t prepare me for was to see how completely inadequate I am in making snap decisions. I just pray when this is all done, I don’t wish that switch wasn’t an inch to the left.