The last kitchen must have been renovated sometime during the Eisenhower administration when gas prices hovered around $.25 per gallon, people put vegetables and tuna in jello, and a 2×4 of lumber costs you $.55. You could have remodeled your kitchen for probably $3,000 and been the talk of the neighborhood for months. We kicked around the idea of painting the pungent smelling cabinets for about a millisecond but then laughed it off.
We did explore the idea of adding onto the kitchen and making it the center attraction for the family where people could sit around the island with Chardonnay and cheese and tell me how great my cooking skills were… or not. We nixed that idea after spending $10k on architecture plans and 6 months with the city getting permits during the pandemic only to discover that the price of most construction costs had tripled during that time. With a couple of “Ughs” and a unanimous “Nope”, we decided to just remodel the kitchen. There were not going to be any wonderful memories of friends snickering behind my back while the water boiled over on the stove in my future, and I could live with that.
After coming to grips with a 50% increase in price by the time we started to the time we decided, we were ready to roll. The contractor was a lovable guy who’d remodeled 3 other houses on our block so we were confident that it would be smooth sailing from here on out. Silly me. First, there was the 4-6 month delay on receiving appliances. “On back order” became the catch phrase of the year and it was anyone’s guess on when the appliances would show up. That really made deciding when to start demolition a mental game of Russian roulette. Finally, we rolled the dice and let the sledge hammers swing after an oven and stove fan arrived.
I’d bought an RV a couple of years earlier thinking I’d travel the country living on the land and writing the next “On The Road” best seller. Turns out, it was a great score as it served as our kitchen for the duration of the construction and even housed a couple of Covid patients during the pandemic. The demolition was smooth and painless. The workers taped up the walls with plastic to keep the dust from spreading around the house. It was a sweet gesture but in no way did the trick. The plumber was a cool guy who loved cars and did what he said he’d do and the electrician seemed competent on knowing what went where.
Then there was the beam running across the kitchen dividing it from the dining room. Leaving it would be an eyesore but removing it meant going back to the city to approve any kind of structural improvements. Have you ever screamed holy murder after hitting your finger with a hammer and vowed to be more careful the next time only to hit it again five minutes later? That’s how we felt after going back to the city.