Yesterday I decided I would paint my kitchen in time for Thanksgiving. Now that we have proper ventilation through our range downdraft vent, the walls won't get all greasy and gross. Except for the fact that I have a Saint Bernard in my house house, so my walls are always covered in some sort of drool-hair slime that can only be cleaned off with a Magic Eraser. So I perused our paint department in the basement to discover that I only had about a half gallon of the kitchen color left so... Off to Menard's with me and my "I promise I don't have to go potty before we leave, I just went" children. We get all the way back to the paint counter and Mae says "I think I need to go potty now." NOW, she decides to go. It always seems to be an emergency with her, so I drop off my paint request and run all the way back to the front of the store to the bathroom. Thank god we know our way around Menard's.
So I buy the paint, return home and start painting. I start painting the ceiling and realize that we still have that hideous fluorescent light fixture hanging above our island. I refer to the offensive light as The Big Buzzer because it emits this horrible buzzing sound- duh? So I say in my sweetest, dumbed-down housewife voice " Honey, will you take down that fixture and put something else up, please?" I should have known better. Let the complaining begin. Hubby now-"It's not that simple, I can't just hang a new light there, there probably isn't even a box, and if there is, how old is it, and what idiot do-it-your- selfer put it in? You know, this whole first floor needs to be rewired, and I've got so many other projects going on right now." But he loves me and knows that he's spent a whole week and a half on a project in his work van that has gotten nowhere, so he grabs his tools to start the investigation.
So I buy the paint, return home and start painting. I start painting the ceiling and realize that we still have that hideous fluorescent light fixture hanging above our island. I refer to the offensive light as The Big Buzzer because it emits this horrible buzzing sound- duh? So I say in my sweetest, dumbed-down housewife voice " Honey, will you take down that fixture and put something else up, please?" I should have known better. Let the complaining begin. Hubby now-"It's not that simple, I can't just hang a new light there, there probably isn't even a box, and if there is, how old is it, and what idiot do-it-your- selfer put it in? You know, this whole first floor needs to be rewired, and I've got so many other projects going on right now." But he loves me and knows that he's spent a whole week and a half on a project in his work van that has gotten nowhere, so he grabs his tools to start the investigation.
He removed the Big Buzzer and was right, the old crusty wires were just hanging out of the ceiling from some mystery box hidden way up in a buried ceiling (oh my) with even more unidentified wires hanging out of that, just out of arms reach. So instead of new lighting for Thanksgiving, I have swiss cheese ceiling and now no light in my kitchen, save the puny light over the sink and the newly positioned lamp on the corner table.
Being the smart electrician that he is, he will conquer this project and give me a beautifully lit Thanksgiving table...I hope. Remolding is his way of being romantic and sweet. Works for me. Like Red Green says " If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy." Luckily mine is both!
And now totally unrelated to my kitchen
It snowed this morning! The girls were thrilled. Mae played in the snow for a few minutes while we waited for the bus.
Being the smart electrician that he is, he will conquer this project and give me a beautifully lit Thanksgiving table...I hope. Remolding is his way of being romantic and sweet. Works for me. Like Red Green says " If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy." Luckily mine is both!
And now totally unrelated to my kitchen
It snowed this morning! The girls were thrilled. Mae played in the snow for a few minutes while we waited for the bus.
1 comment:
Gorgeous pictures!
We had a St. Bernard when I was a little girl, named Barney (how original, huh?). He only had one eye. We're not sure how he lost one; either the horses in the pasture next door got him since he was obsessed with chasing them. Or, he was hit by a car. The world will never know.
My dad has a Newfoundland named Ben that lives indoors with them. He's cute, huge, and just too funny.
Hope your Thanksgiving goes well.
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