Notes from Maine - 2024/03/17
My kitchen work was on hold last week. I’ve been remodeling my kitchen for the past decade or so it seems. Last week I had company and sanding drywall just wasn’t in the cards. It’s hard enough when it’s just me living here—I wouldn’t subject anyone else to all that dust and chaos. I’d like to have the kitchen squared away by November. That’s when my friend usually holds a big Thanksgiving party here. We’ll see if that works out. It’s starting to feel less and less likely.
My approach to kitchen cabinets worked through a very illogical yet predictable path. In the beginning, I calculated how many of the original cabinets could be reused. A coat of paint and new handles and they would be good as new, right? Once I started taking them down and really inspecting them, none made the cut. They weren’t constructed of good materials. The boxes were vinyl veneer and particle board. The doors were open grain oak that would have required a ton of work just to make them smooth. And the style of everything was all wrong.
Before long, I was breaking down the worst of the cabinets and hauling them to the dump. Just after that, everything went to the dump and I began to investigate having some cabinets made. And now we’re at the final stage—I’ve decided to make them myself. I’ve done vanities and furniture before. It’s not a matter of knowledge, just of time. In another decade (or three) I should be done with the last of the cabinets. I can affix the final drawer pull and then head off to a nursing home.
A decision looms in front of me. I know the floor will be tile, but I have to decide on my color scheme before I can pick it out. Slate? Terra cotta? Light gray? Tan? The best bet might be a neutral color and then I can decorate it with an area rug, but light or dark? If scientists ever invent a time machine, the best use might be for color picking. I’ll never know what could I should paint a wall, but in a year or two I will have very strong opinions that simply can’t be predicted ahead of time. I need to be able to jump back in time and whisper in my own ear. That would solve everything.
In some unimaginable future, where I’ve actually finished the kitchen, I’ve been thinking about ditching the wood stove in the living room. A long time ago, I was a wood stove guy. I would split and stack in the summer and then stoke it every day in the winter. When the fire got out of control the living room would approach eight degrees (twenty-six Celsius) and the upstairs would become unbearable. Your body acclimates to those temperatures and then mornings become unfathomably cold. Once I stopped using it, I understood how much I disliked the wood stove. If I removed it, I could get rid of the brick hearth and make a large area of the living room more usable.
“Get rid of the brick hearth? How dare you?”
During the kitchen remodel, when I was removing one of the bricks so I could expand a wall, I discovered something fascinating. The bricks of the hearth were laid down over industrial carpet. Impossible? I would have thought so, but I saw it with my own eyes. At this point, removing the rest of the bricks seems like the right thing to do. The only question is whether or not I put a new hearth back in their place or just install wood in the entire living room. I’m leaning towards hardwood floors in the living room, if I ever get to that project. If the next owner wants to add a wood stove, they can curse all my lousy decisions.
A house this old needs character, and character comes from a string of lousy decisions. At least that’s what I tell myself.
