Take my Kitchen, Please!

In our Dark Ages, our kitchen was too small, the cabinets too dark, the ceiling too low, and the floor hideously ugly. Well, I will confess one thing about the floor. It was a gold and brown pattern that did not improve with mopping. This had its good aspect, because that meant you also couldn’t tell when I didn’t mop it. I will not publicly reveal how far I tested this, but let me assure you that my kitchen floor often went a good long time without mopping, to no real detriment to the appearance of the home. This is more of a statement on how it’s ugliness couldn’t be helped than anything.

That hideous linoleum, as opposed to the white tile in my military housing that would soil the first time a person walked across its freshly dried surface, could hide a multitude of sins, including splotches of mud, gravy and mustard. As ugly as my linoleum was, I will admit I enjoyed this feature and utilized it to full advantage.

Anyhow, we puzzled and perplexed about how to solve our kitchen’s problems for about thirteen years. It is a square kitchen, with an east facing sink, a stove on the south, a bar on the north (which also contained the dishwasher which was for the most part a decoration), and the fridge on the west wall, which was also the pass through space for traffic coming from the living room into the family room.

One other good point is that the family room is set right off the kitchen, which, let’s be honest, is where everybody wants to be. It’s always a little more comforting to be close to the food. The bar had cupboards hanging over it, further boxing up the kitchen. They had installed fluorescent lights in a box, lowering the entire kitchen ceiling, in as near as I can tell, an effort to duplicate the ambience of a ship’s galley.

With all that going on, we stood wringing our hands like the Wicked Witch of the West, wondering “What to do, what to do.”

What we finally did, with the encouragement of our afore mentioned son, was to rip everything out. We (this is the Royal We, my part in this was giving my opinion of how things were looking, often, just too late to do any good). *sigh* Okay, “We” installed unfinished cabinets, which in our area are only available at Lowe’s. These were vastly less expensive, and allowed us to choose our finish.

We (and here the We means pretty much me) chose a finish with the doubtful title of “Pickled Oak.” It is light, and after the dark walnut of the previous cabinets I really wanted light. I felt like golden oak was too orange, and the wood wasn’t really beautiful enough to just varnish clear. If I could have afforded lovely wood like maple or hickory, that would have been a beautiful option.

However, with as much remodeling to do as we envisioned, our decisions were based mostly on “not quite the least value money can buy.” Here’s my theory: Spending the least money you can on just about anything, is equally as cost effective as flushing your money down the toilet. The least expensive product will end up being so cheaply made that it breaks instantly. This holds true for paint, carpeting, appliances, furniture– everything!

I am can only imagine how this damages the spirit of factory workers that give their lives away making can openers that open seven and one half cans. My conscience screams at the waste of valuable resources, and I have no doubt there is a special place in Hell for factory owners who perpetuate this.

On the other hand, if you spend the most money possible, you are often throwing away even more money for bells and whistle features that are doomed to fail. This is the electric can opener that is supposed to also take the cut lid off the can for you and which also works for seven and one half cans. After a short while, you have a regular run of the mill can opener (washer, CD player, electric toothbrush) that you paid a lot of extra money for. That explains why I almost always put my money on the middle range product.

Thus, walking down the canyons of The Home Depot and Lowe’s was an experience in torture. I could see the el cheapo choices and ignore them easily enough. But I could also see how far you could go with extravagance and exquisiteness. Thus, my middle range choices, which were often lovely, were only a candle to the brilliance of what might have been, if price were not an object. I had to remind myself of my theory often, but it wasn’t much comfort.

Still, I have no doubt that we spent way, WAY too much money on our remodel. I knew we were going to move, so I wasn’t thinking of myself. If it were just for me, I think I would have gladly settled for less, with my inherited Puritan ideals on suffering insuring me a better place in the hereafter. (My religion does NOT teach me this, btw, but Puritan DNA is strong stuff, not easily cast aside--oh and let's be honest, so far as I know I don't have any actual Puritan ancestors, but my ancesters who were living at the time were no doubt influenced by their Puritan associates, and that was enough to cause the damage).

I was remodeling for an Invisible woman, whom I’ve never met, and I wanted her to have all the things I wished for, but never had. I’m sure we nearly doubled what we planned to spend, for two reasons:

1. Incremental Increases in quality. This is how it works: You buy one thing, and it isn’t so much money. Spending a few extra bucks will make it so much better. A few bucks for a better tile, or trim, or you name it, doesn’t seem like much. But when you add all those little extra dollars on top of each other...... you’ve made a mountain of difference.

2. Ripple effect.

Ripple effect is when you decide that this and this look okay, but you really MUST replace that. But when you replace that, now this and this look very shabby, and it is obvious they need to be replaced, too. And there your money goes, with glad little cries, rippling away from you.

But, it must be admitted that the end result was fabulous, and that’s worth something, too (we hope).

Joy in the Journey