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Kitchen remodeling


Darling wife has been working on remodeling our kitchen for more than a year. We had grandiose plans to move the kitchen out to the back porch and enclose the porch with wraparound windows. Eight months of fussing with plans, drawing and redrawing them, came to naught when the county suddenly changed the building codes. In an instant, the project cost doubled because of all the new requirements. So we didn’t bother to do it.

Now we are merely replacing the kitchen in situ, instead of moving the whole thing, and we’re not bothering with a permit, because it’s not affecting the exterior of the house where anyone can see it. We have been fussing with choices of colors, woods, drawers, drawer pulls, countertop surfaces, and so on. And by “we,” I mean “she.”

Every day, she wants to tell me about the newest idea she’s had. We’ve been working with a kitchen cabinet company which is owned by a neighbor a few streets over. He and I have a silent, unspoken competition about “who has the most infinite patience.” He is supportive and compliant with her changing requests. I strive to act interested in every change. He has to be patient in order to earn the money. I have to be patient in order to keep the peace. The kitchen IS the heart of the home, and she IS the person who makes our house a home, so it’s my job to be patient and supportive and interested in what she’s doing.

For her part, she’s well aware that I want to curl up and cover my auditory orifices with my tentacles every time she mentions the kitchen. She’s made it a point to bring it up only once a day. Twice, at the most. She smiles comfortingly when she sees me twitch as she mentions the word “kitchen.” I smile fixedly back and make a sincere effort to listen.

I just want it to be over. Soon.

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