The End of the Tunnel

The End of the Tunnel (I Mean Kitchen Remodel) is in Sight

OK, I’ve put 2 more coats of goo on the kitchen floor; brush marks …sanding…hit bare wood…aaaargh!!!  Got high on fumes, had to spend two days making “alternative” bathroom arrangements, and now, finally, finally, the floor looks REALLY good, even under close inspection, and I’m moving on to putting in the floating countertops around the stove.

God forbid the original homebuilders do anything like PUT THE STUDS AT REGULAR INTERVALS INSIDE THE WALLS!!!!  Deep breath…yes, my stud finder is useless on plaster and in bars, but it did work in the kitchen, and I found my studs…at least I’ve got something to screw………………..shelves into ;-)

I started out with a bad drawing and moved into actual diagrams, but I’m still no good at cuttin’ wood until I’ve got something physical to work with…so I spent the afternoon yesterday really measuring, cutting out shelves and supports, drilling for studs, etc.

The drilling really set off the mice living in the attic – it sounded like they were having a lambada dance party up there.  I sent the cat in, but she quickly lost interest, and they quickly started back up doing whatever it was that they were doing (it sounds like they’re trying to dig their way through the insulation and ceiling, right     over     my     head     EEEW!).  I hate to use poison, but I also hate to hear frantic scrabbling noises directly above me, it just puts me on edge a bit.

So, anyway, I always tell myself that I’ll work until I start to get stupid (you know, the point when you need to switch out a drill bit and you hit the “reverse” button rather than unscrewing the keyless chuck – repeatedly).  But then I kept thinking of little jobs that didn’t require intelligence, and here I am, its 8:13 a.m., and I’ve been awake since 6:30 a.m. yesterday morning, insomnia is an insidious beast.  Of course it is cool, in a          barfly-unemployed-rebel kind of way, to be drinking Old Style in the morning, but the only reason I’m doing it is that I ran out of bourbon- good lord, I think Kinky Freidman might understand – and that scares me!!!

Well, the sun is out, the floor is dry, I no longer have to use a disposable cooler as a “bathroom”, and it’s probably time for a nap…after all, this is Michigan, I can’t reload on bourbon until at least 10 a.m.