Thursday was our last night of take out. We have been ordering from three different pizza joints so that we don’t look like complete oinkers and while our rapport has been tight with each one the relationships we’ve forged with deliverers they had to end sometime. The payment and delivery transaction is peppered with comments; “Things are really coming along”, “Wow, love that window” and my favorite, “The fireplace is beautiful, really different. What are the materials?”
Our kitchen is semi-functioning, patiently waiting orders to kick into gear. The sinks have been installed for some time, water is finally flowing, garbage disposals wrrr when air buttons are pressed, and the ovens and stove are crying for attention. The microwave and oven functioned effortlessly on their debut performance yesterday when we partied here with friends after our 30 mile bicycle ride. (Thanks Tracy for the Thanksgiving in a Bite!) The dishwasher drawer in the bar has been loaded and is ready for a maiden voyage today and the kitchen dishwasher and refrigerator will be installed after the wood floors are laid if I can manage a decision, but that is a topic for another day.
Once upon a time I lived without a dishwasher and I was happy. Frequent dinner parties meant piles of dishes done over a few days (there’s only so much room in the dish drainer and I see no reason to towel dry when air dry will do) and when Lewis moved in he cut a hole in my 1930’s kitchen cabinet and installed a machine. Oh blissful days.
If it had been up to Lewis we would have eaten off paper plates and forks for a year with no utensils, glasses or dinnerware but I just can’t live that way and we’ve been washing dishes in the laundry sink. I am so excited to run a load in the new dishwasher drawer I can hardly stand it. Who knew such an ordinary task would bring such joy?
We start the South Beach Diet tomorrow to shed the ten pounds we have gained over the last year and the items we need to prepare meals with will be fetched from the attic today. I wrote every item we packed on the outside of each box and finding the basics shouldn’t be that hard.
We could easily move the mini fridge downstairs so that cooking will be easy but Lewis is fighting me on that. I am tired of battling over every practical decision like this one and since he will be doing most of the cooking, he can trek back and forth upstairs or to the garage to the refrigerators.
My thought is not to move things in until it will be a permanent location. We have lived with the bare minimum and doing just fine that a few more weeks will not kill us. I understand the anxiousness to move into the new white kitchen but the fact is we are not done. The existing concrete slab that the house is built on is uneven so lots of grinding and more dust is on the way. It will be another few weeks until it and the radiant heat flooring is in and of course Janelle has to make a decision on flooring. On a side note the floor contractor is dealing with prostate cancer, resulting in more delays.
It is waaay more practical than leaving the mini fridge upstairs. We used everything that I didn’t pack away a year ago and there won’t be moving anything back upstairs. We have taken to call the bathroom counter “the kitchen counter” and I am DONE DONE DONE preparing food in the bathroom. Stick a fork in me, I am DONE! (Ok, that last sentence was lame but I can’t help myself.) Did I mention that I am done?