Okay, so itâ€™s been a while since I posted anything here at EoB.
I have many excuses — most of them are pretty good.Â My favorite is that we spent the last year remodeling most of the house — including the kitchen.Â This is a special kind of hell.Â I know child birth is supposed to be tough, but at least it ends in a relatively short period of time. And my ob-gyn has never looked me in the eye and promised me my exam would be over in a certain amount of time only to have it drag on for months.
However, I did learn a few things during the remodeling process.
First, contractors are delicate flowers. Really. Oh, sure, theyâ€™re sweaty, cranky, and prone to never showing up on time. But like the Wicked Witch of the West, they will melt if it rains. (I have never seen a contactor in the rain.Â So that whole Wicked Witch thing is wild speculation, but, you know, it would explain a lot.)
Me (on the phone): â€œUhm, hey, itâ€™s Caroline.Â Itâ€™s eleven and you guys said youâ€™d be here by nine.Â I hate to be a bother, but could you give me a call and let me know when youâ€™re going to be here?â€
Me (on the phone): â€œYeah. Itâ€™s Caroline. Again. Itâ€™s noon and yâ€™all still arenâ€™t here. I kinda need to run some errands. Could you please call and let me know when yâ€™all will be here?â€
Me (on the phone): â€œItâ€™s Caroline. Seriously.Â What the hell? Itâ€™s two oâ€™clock and no one is here. And I havenâ€™t had a call. Jesus jumped-up Christ on a moped, how difficult is it to pick up the fricking phone and let me know that youâ€™re not even going to bother to come. Fuck me!â€
Me (answering the phone): â€œYeah, what? My language?Â Seriously? Do you have any idea how much they swear when theyâ€™re here? I made them cry? Oh. My. God. You have got to be kidding. Uh huh. Uh huh. But it wasnâ€™t even raining, for fuckâ€™s sake. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Fine. But Iâ€™m not sending them roses. Fine, daisies. No, Iâ€™m not going to send them candy. Well, sure Iâ€™d like the sink to get put in.Â Itâ€™s been sitting in the guest bedroom for four months. Uh huh. So, nougat or cream filled?â€
Secondly, things will happen if you leave the house. And the corollary: Carpenters are never happier than when theyâ€™re destroying someone elseâ€™s work.
In order to save some money (oh, the hysterical laughter thatâ€™s bubbling up in my throat even now), I decided to keep kitchenâ€™s center island.Â We were going to retro fit the cabinets.
I get home after going to the grocery store. The center island is gone. Â There are two sad-looking pipes poking out of the floor.
Did I mention the island was gone? This was not an insubstantial item. It was ten freaking feet long, four and a half feet wide. Gone. Vanished. Poof!Â It’s like an episode of LOST.Â The Others have done something terrible and now they want me to believe that theyâ€™re the good guys.
Me: â€œThe island is gone. Vanished. Poof!â€
John (my carpenter, looking manically cheerful): â€œWe had to!Â We discovered the plumbing had been leaking into the base of the cabinet.Â The wood had rotted. Hee hee!â€
Me: But, butâ€¦ the island is gone! Vanished! Poof!
John: We had to.
Me: â€œWhat time is it?Â Itâ€™s cocktail hour somewhere. Wanna shot?Â I think I need a shot. We all need shots. Thereâ€™s tequila somewhere on the back porch. Iâ€™m going to find it.â€Â
Thirdly, painters are evil. Really, really evil.
Fourth, you canâ€™t work in a house thatâ€™s being remodeled. And you canâ€™t leave to work somewhere else because there are a million questions You Must Answer Now. And these are questions you have never once in your life thought about. Questions like: â€œHow do you want the random tiles in the backsplash arranged?â€ and â€œWhere do you want these outlets put?â€
And my favorite part about the remodel: Living without floors.Â Well, we had floors, but all the carpeting and old tile had been pulled out.Â Which would have been fine, except that the floor guys, thoughtful fellows that they were, laid a skim coat down to help the new flooring material adhere better.Â Then they wisely decided to wait on putting in the new floors.
The problem? A skim coat is mud. You have a mud flat. In. Your. House. I now know why pioneer women went batshit crazy. (Okay, aside from the crushing boredom, loneliness and the backbreaking work.)Â They lived in what amounted to dry mud flats. Â
Thereâ€™s a lot of all kinds of crap that gets stirred up during construction, but I swear that skim coat was the worst of it.Â Iâ€™m getting the vapors just thinking about it.
All my friends have instructions to smack me if I ever start talking about remodeling again because, like childbirth, you forget the pain.
Like I said, Iâ€™ve had my reasonsâ€¦ Â
*Oh, and the damn island is back.Â One day it just reappeared. Voila!