Hammer Time

So, Monday came and went.  George came home from work and remarked that not much had been accomplished.  Visually, he was correct.  Not much had been accomplished as far as the eye could see.

 

Foreman Luke spent the better part of the day reviewing the plans and making notes and coming up with the ultimate game plan so that kitchen-new would replace kitchen-old in a timely fashion.  I spent the better part of Monday trying to improve on my laundry/kitchen organization, fantasizing on what I was going to make for dinner in my new convection oven and teeny-weeny portable cook-top.  Shockingly, we ended up eating pizza for dinner.  True dat.  Sometimes fantasy is just fantasy.  Actual implementation is hard and requires action.  Given the 90 degree heat there was no action.  I'd like to believe that at some point I will be able to crank out a nutritious meal for my family in that space I've carved out.  I'd also like to believe that Pluto is still a planet.

 

We did however get insulated and protected on Monday.  Big zippered plastic doors are now installed at every orifice that connects the kitchen to the rest of the house.  These doors are "technically" supposed to be helpful in keeping the dust and debris out of the living space.  We'll see how that pans out.  What's really bizarre about these little doors is that even with the zipper open you still need to push through a bit to get to the other side while stepping gingerly through the opening one foot at a time.  So far this transition between rooms has been described as a "birthing experience" and a "body-bag" experience.  It's a little unnerving to tell you the truth.  There's something just plain hinky about it.

 

With kitchen-new as the objective, I'm going to attempt not to whine and complain about how this is going to affect my everyday life.  I mean honestly.  I'm going to end up with a brandy spankin new wonder kitchen.  This should be enough to encourage me to endure the bad on the way to the good.  I would like to illustrate how flawlessly I will adhere to my attempts not to whine and complain.  Yes, I am immediately going to whine and complain.

 

Let's focus for just a moment on logistics.  Specifically, the simple act of getting from one place to another.  See the thing about our house is that in order to get to the lower level of the house where most things are from the upper level of the house where there other most things are - - you need to use the stairs in the kitchen.  During the work day the kitchen is a war zone, so there is no chance that you are going to walk down those stairs.  Option 2 is that you must exit the house through the front door, walk around the house to the garage, use your key to get in the garage (since the garage doors are not electric or automated) and then enter the downstairs through the door in the garage.  Yesterday I did it about seven thousand times.  It stands to reason that I will eventually get the hang of making a list of things I need to do downstairs and the things I need to do upstairs and then coordinate those in to a handful of level changes during any one day.  I'll let you know when that happens.  Don't bet too much on that pony.  You'd loose the farm.

 

And now - - what  happened yesterday in the SF bajillion degree heat.  A BOAT LOAD!  I left yesterday morning at 7:45a.m. and returned at 1:00 p.m.  During those hours THIS had happened:

 



For reference, please note location of fridge for later....

From 1:00 until 4:00, while I was walking around the house, up and down, lamenting that when I was downstairs I needed something critically upstairs and when I was upstairs I so very badly needed something downstairs - - THIS is what happened:

Holy Tasmanian devil batman!  I had heard that the demo part was the fast part.  Pictures do not lie.  Gone was everything.  And in it's place were BIG piles of kitchen shrapnel in the back yard and big piles of dry wall on the inside.  Amazing.  I was kinda hoping that I would have been able to work out a bit of my frustration wielding a sledge hammer of my own - - but that was not to be.  I will have to live vicariously through the swings of my contractors.  Guess I can manage that.

And now the teaser - - In to every life a little rain must fall, and Tuesday brought the first of many chin scratching, what do we do now moments during construction.  Tomorrow we will cover such fascinating topics as: What happens when the fridge cannot be moved the basement as planned? and The joys, pros and cons of outdoor refrigeration.