An End in Sight

I haven’t made an entry in this blog for a month now. I wish it was because of vacation, or due to some kind of wonderful life-affirming experience. Childbirth, perhaps, or a stint in Africa fighting the Ebola virus. But alas, we’re having our kitchen remodeled and who knew it would take this long. We were so full of hope; thrilled at the thought of finally realizing a dream, and it’s truly getting there. Or so I’m told.

Now, you may wonder why a simple remodel should hamper my ability to scribe 750 words once in awhile. Surely there’ve been paranormal investigations worthy of discussion during this time. Certainly, there have been interesting personal events I could have written about. I assure you, it’s not that I’ve been completely uninspired, because there are tons of subjects I’d like to talk about. I could have broken my “no politics” rule, or discussed the new fall television schedule… I could have shared something; done my duty as a “blogger”; created some fiction; told some tall tales. But no! I haven’t dared, and if truth be known, I haven’t given this blog, or anything else I hold dearly, even a moment’s thought. However, yesterday, while cutting the grass and listening to the Beatles White Album, I finally realized why I’ve been so quiet. (Thanks again, Fab Four.)

During the past month without a kitchen, I’ve endured more horrific assaults on my person than I would have thought was possible. You don’t want to write while your sensibilities are being bombarded non-stop. Just the simple act of searching for a salt shaker in hopes of adding some meager seasoning to a microwaveable dinner is enough deprecation to ruin several hours by itself. Who knew it would be inside the toaster oven, which was hidden between the box of plates and a large trash bag of potholders, aprons, and cutting boards. Likewise, I haven’t a clue as to the whereabouts of an entire case of microwave popcorn, or the donuts I bought last week that everyone else claims I imagined.

The box of plastic forks and spoons keeps moving on me – it’s never where I last saw it. I keep spilling the ice trays walking from the bathroom to the frig. And speaking of refrigerators, I could have written several blog entries about why we don’t keep them in the living room. Our house mouse, Socrates Swahili Strindberg, stuck his head out in confusion and has moved next door. And I shudder when I think of Oliver the dog, wandering the house aimlessly in search of his dish. In the end, he gave up, sighed heavily, and laid down defeated. Our robot vacuum has given up as well. It came out as programmed one Friday and stopped somewhere behind the sofa, which is blocked in by the stove and refrigerator. I half expected to find the salt shaker back there as well – hiding. On purpose. Oh! I almost forgot, someone tripped and fell on the box with our glasses inside. I won’t say who, but old age had nothing to do with it.

A month doesn’t seem like such a long time in someone’s lifetime, but it is. This month has been an eternity, but when you add the indignity of having cabinets arrive at the wrong size, drawers without stops, live exposed electrical wires in the wall, and a dented microwave/exhaust hood, it has become forever. Yesterday, two days from installation, we were informed that our granite slab has cracked, and we must choose another.

Is there an end in sight? One would hope so, and certainly I’m mustering every ounce of optimism I can find (even though I’m convinced most of that is behind the sofa with the robot). We’re all holding up quite well, considering, because we know that when the dust finally clears, we’ll have a beautiful kitchen that we’ll cherish for many years. (We’re not doing this again in my lifetime.) Yes, we’re stiff-upper-lipping it, and dealing with adversity like true DIY champs. We’re a few dollars poorer and have noticeably aged during the process, but it will all be worth it – we’re just hoping we can hold on long enough to actually see the finished project. Besides, tonight we’re going to TGIFridays instead of Boston Market. Or MacDonalds. Or Sonic. The first thing I’m gonna do when the kitchen is completed is make spaghetti. I’m pretty sure we’re storing the sauce under the bathroom sink.
Voices From Forever by Randall Keller Available on Amazon
There Is No Silence by Randall Keller Available on Amazon.


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