We started the renovation of our kitchen this weekend. First, just a few pictorial aids, to illustrate why we need to do this so badly:
All of that up there? I hate it. Questions?
Also, this:
Hilarious. I'm pretty sure my grandparents had a similar paper lining their drawers and I'm not talking about underpants. Or am I?
The first thing you have to do when you want to completely rip out your kitchen and build a new one is move your kitchen someplace else so that you can still mind your basic needs like coffee and canned peas. Thus, we have this setup in our living room:
Canned goods, plates, big utensils, plus we still have the refrigerator. Combine that with a gas grill, microwave and a George Foreman grill and what we have here is the entire kitchen within easy reach of the couch. Other than the mess, there is a lot to love about an arrangement like that. Plus, we're getting much more practical use out of the china cabinet now:
Once you've pulled everything out of your God forsaken kitchen, then you can begin the very important step of demolition. Most people I've mentioned this to have commented that it sounds like it would be fun. It is, for about five minutes. Unfortunately, the human psyche is not geared toward enjoyment of repetitive tasks unless it involves our naughty bits and since this exercise didn't involve anything close to naughty bits, it wasn't any fun. Plus, I got to be reminded yet again of how old I'm getting by my aching joints, muscles, bones and, hell, if mitochondria can ache, I'm sure mine do right now, but I digress.
If there is anything salvagable in the kitchen, remove those items first and put them someplace they won't get wet. If you're going to start unhooking things, it is best to ensure none of the power supplies are live lest you touch one and electrocute yourself, as Frank discovered 58 minutes into the project. If we had one of those displays that advertises number of days on job without an injury, there would be a coating of dust bunnies over the big "1" that never gets changed. Here is Phillip and Frank, who shall henceforth be known as The Greatest Guy in the World because he spent his whole weekend helping us do this, removing a dishwasher:
You can already see the manly sweat forming on their brows, partly from effort, partly because we cut all the power including air conditioning, after the mishap.
After the live wires have been capped off and running water isn't an issue, you can start smashing things.
Some pieces come off in big chunks:
Some don't:
This is a 40 year old house and it was clearly not designed by a real architect. I've heard of people who read a book on how to build a house and go from there. Think of Mr. Miyagi: "Learn karate from book?" Yeah, I'm that kind of skeptical about it. As we peeled back layers of the construction, we had a lot of conversations that started with "What is this supposed to be?", but it wasn't as bad as I expected. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised to find out that this house is held together by bubble gum and killer bees, but it turns out to be as structurally sound as any house. Probably more so, because all the beams and boards are twice as thick as conventional construction. This place wouldn't be for everybody, but I find it charming in it's quirky, insane majesty.
The long story has to be shortened because I am so sore and tired, I'm having trouble typing and this is keeping me from the pleasant numbing effect I could get from raiding the liquor cabinet, which is now occupying the cabinets of our upstairs bathroom. The end state of this weekend is that we pulled everything out of the entire room, down to the studs in the walls. The sheetrock, insulation, floor tiles, subflooring, it's all gone and it was no small task to do it. The good news for me is that this is the last physical effort I'll have to make for a long time. Contractors are coming in this week to do the framing, so I'm going to lay back, stay out of the way and survive on hot pockets if need be.
