VG Kitchen Remodel: The Before & The Plans

I'm back. Sort of. Kind of. As you may or may not know depending how often you visit the blog posting has been rather sporadic as of late. Between planning a book tour, a massive fund raiser at my work, and the fingernail ripping pains of escrow I've been rather busy.

Still, I finally closed escrow and come Friday - unless HUD decides to continue being a dick and delays itself again - I should have keys in my hand.

And while there is no running water, or garbage cans, or service to pick up said cans, and a front gate that doesn't latch, there's also crayon on the walls, a turd in the toilet that's been there for two weeks when a homeless guy broke in and stayed the night, and there's a bit of wood rot in the eaves with a moldy shadow that whispers anti-Semitic remarks at me... this house is mine! This piece of crap house is finally mine!

I suppose this sort of euphoria is normal, the way mothers are completely mindwiped of the previous twelve hours of vagina-ripping birth horror the second they pick up their child. House keys do the same thing with memories of escrow. Had I not documented the fact that it was such a nightmare I would probably just pass it off in conversation as, "Oh yes, it was unpleasant. You'll get through it though. It's so worth it!" 

I have yet to see this be the case for myself, but after looking at my interest rate and mortgage payments that are scads lower than what I was paying in rent it's certainly shaping up to be. 

Until that time comes around there must be construction. The kitchen, to be exact. The rest of the house consists of lots of little projects. (Well, okay, the yard is Lovecraftian Beast formed of neglect and spite and crowned with a dilapidated hot tub; but that can wait.) 

The kitchen has gas. That's the plus. The only plus.

Currently, the layout as it stands is crap. It's tiny and impractical for functional flow or movement. The oven is totally busted and there is no fridge or dishwasher to speak of. There's a poorly painted door where someone didn't tape up the glass that lies about four feet away from the front door for no logical reason. A tiny nook for a table the size of a footstool is provided for your convenience. The cabinets are ugly and covered in fairly horrifying stencils I assume a bored housewife popped on back in 1978 when it was cool and cable T.V. couldn't fulfill a bored housewife's needs all hours of the day. 

I could go on, but allow me to show you instead...

-Here you can see the shoddy door and lack of cabinet and counter space. If you look above you can see the busted light box where which a broken pipe hides. Notice the slight bulge in the ceiling from the water damage from a busted pipe. Also, that is crappy linoleum and not tile.-

-This stove is literally older than I am. Also, note the gag reflex-inducing stencils and wood veneer. -

-The window does not budge.-

-The other positive thing is there is a lot of light. This much light, sadly, is not worth a lack of work surface or storage. Also, behold the world's smallest breakfast nook.-

-Ugh.-

So, obviously, we're remodeling it all. All. As in this is a full-on gut job. We are building a whole new kitchen.

Brian and I will be doing all of the demo with help from family (mostly my mom, who out of her saintly nature is assisting us with this venture both financially and with some demolition knowhow that neither husband nor I possess) and friends. We'll also be doing a lot of installation ourselves, and we have been actively hunting for floor samples, sinks, surfaces, and everything else you can imagine.

Don't even get me on the paint color discussion. I'm pretty sure one of us will get a paint roller crammed up the ass before the end of this. (And it will be him if he thinks I will let him paint the kitchen any shade of purple. "No, Brian, I do not think it would be cool to cut up aubergines in the aubergine kitchen. What is wrong with you?")

After a lot of meetings with a kitchen designer and cabinet maker we've come up with this nifty solution:

-It's like reading sheet music. You know it all makes sense, but hell if you can make it out. (Also, yes, I can read sheet music. Shut up. I played the flute for fifteen years.)-

What you see before you are new cabinets, a microwave with hood, two ovens, a gas range, a dishwasher, french door fridge, banquet, and plenty of functional cabinets and granite countertops. Yes. Sweet baby Jesus, yes. 

-This gets me excited. I'm so wet you could drown an infant in my panties right now.-

-Yes, we lost a lot of natural light on this side of the kitchen, but the overhanding cabinet and hood where the stove used to be are gone, allowing light to come in from the many windows in the dining and living rooms.-

-Like so.-

I am both terrified and super psyched. I'll be detailing the whole process on here from start to finish as best as my little hands, brain, and sanity will let me. 

Send your prayers, people. And, if you have one, a sledgehammer. 

Garrett out.