Zen and the Art of Kitchen Remodeling

The kitchen remodel is almost finished. No, I’m not going to show you “after” photographs...or at least, just yet. That would deprive you of the full experience of “the reveal,” and we wouldn’t want that, would we? 

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Instead, we’ll go back to the week of the phase 1 reopening, starting May 1. Our general contractor called to say they would be coming to install the cabinetry on the following Tuesday, May 5. I quickly realized that that meant the makeshift sink and cabinet would have to be torn out, and we would go back to washing dishes in the bathtub. But he promised that it would go quickly from there. 

 

It turns out that his definition of “quickly” and mine are two different things. 

I stayed busy with making sure everything that I needed to order was ordered. I had waited for some things, since I didn’t want to overshoot the 30-day return window for things that we maybe didn’t need after all. But we needed the vent hood, the cabinet knobs and latches, the faucet, the light fixtures. I lined up delivery for the stovetop and oven. I unpacked the sink and trim kit for the refrigerator/freezer. And then I waited. 

Every subcontractor was in high demand after reopening, and our kitchen seemed to be moving further and further down the list. I had to stamp my foot a few times, something that is SO against my nature. Finally, after much pleading, the cabinets were installed, and the floor guys were scheduled to sand and stain. I knew mostly what color I wanted, and I was told I’d have a choice between several samples. The scheduling kept being pushed back. And then, on a random Friday at 7:30, as I had a spoonful of oatmeal on its way to my mouth, a team of floor guys swooped in and started moving in sanding equipment, etc. 

Whoa, I told them, I haven’t even picked out a color. No one told me you were coming. Phone calls were made, and I quickly picked up some things I knew we’d need but couldn’t get to for 24 hours as the stain dried. And, just as quickly as they swooped in, they swooped out again, with apologies for scheduling snafus. They assured me they knew exactly the color of stain I wanted, and would be back on Monday. I wondered how they knew the color when I didn’t even know myself?

Monday they came, sanded, and put a layer of stain of some abhorrent red-brown-magenta color reminiscent of some really bad 70s-era fake wood paneling. To their credit, they’re very quick at what they do, so they had the whole floor done before I saw how awful it was. Dammit. I tried not to cry. After all, there’s nothing more “first-world-problem” than having your floors stained the wrong color. But I knew I couldn’t live with it, and it would have to be re-done. So we rescheduled. And this time, they came with a couple of samples and gave me time to choose. And I was so glad I made them do it over.

 

But rescheduling the floor pushed back the electrician and the countertops and the plumber for the installation of the stove. In the meantime, the cabinet guy installed open shelves, but measured wrong. He had to move them, putty the screw holes, paint over, and start again. 

Three times.

One shelf was measured wrong for the stove area, so had to be re-cut, re-sanded, re-painted. Another shelf started coming loose from the wall right after he left for the weekend. And always, always, “we’ll be back sometime next week.” Sometime?!

BUT, progress was being made. I tried to stay zen. I continued to cook outside and do our dishes in the bathtub. Weeks passed. Soon we had countertops—my dream of soapstone had come true. That allowed the installation of a sink, which was monumental. Our bathroom could now be a bathroom again.

 

I was zen when the island was installed and the electricity feeding it was in the wrong place, creating a huge hole in the brand-new floor. I continued being zen when the electricity for the vent hood was also in the wrong place, creating a huge hole in the newly-painted wall. The electrician was annoyed, but I stayed zen.

I was zen when the new floor got gouged while laying down the fridge and freezer to connect them with the trim kit.

I was zen when the legs on the fridge and freezer got damaged when someone tried to jack them up and move them sideways before emptying them of food.

I was zen when two of the new cabinet doors were warped.

I was zen when the corner lazy susan cabinet doors wouldn’t open fully.

I was zen when the space for the fridge and freezer was discovered to be too big to apply the trim kit, and would need an extra piece of trim. I was also zen when the trim was brought, and had been painted the wrong color. 

I was cool as a cucumber when the floor sander guys accidentally cut the water line to the freezer.

I laughed in resignation when the new reverse-osmosis system started to leak. I laughed a little less when the whole-house water softener they’d installed at the same time started to leak. (The receptionist started to know me by name when she answered the phone that week.)

But I knew that losing my temper would only make things worse. I had to stay zen to keep my sanity. It would get done eventually, I told myself. No need to get upset.

That was, until the backsplash.

Before the lockdown I had given the tile guy (which is, by the way, also the floor guy, which should tell you something) my tile preference—brand name, type, how it should lay, grout color, where I had seen it sold. He said he should have no problem finding it. He came to measure. 

Fast-forward two months. He kept putting us off, which was annoying, since the electrician was waiting for him to put in the receptacles. Finally he showed up, unannounced (I’m getting used to this by now, unfortunately), and asked if he could measure, and what tile did I want. My jaw dropped. I maintained composure through his visit, but when he said he had looked for my tile but couldn’t find it, I knew he was lying. You can’t both ask me what tile I want and tell me you couldn’t find it at the same time. He finally told me that I should probably order it myself since I know where to get it. 

I lost it. Zen completely gone, I called our contractor and asked for someone else to do our tile. Conversations were had. There must have been begging and pleading at the other end. In the end, his guys did our backsplash, and did a good job, but only after he spent the week calling me with minute-by-minute updates and apologizing repeatedly for dropping the ball. 

 

The backsplash is in. The countertops are in. The appliances are in. The electrical is finished. The cabinets are finished, doors replaced. It is a perfectly functioning kitchen, for all intents and purposes. I’ve put away dishes and filled the drawers. I’ve made pizza and stews and baked goods. There are only a few details to go before we can call it finished:

to trim in the fridge/freezer,

to trim in the oven,

to fit the glass in the cabinet doors,

to apply a final coat of varnish on the floor,

to do paint touch up,

...and to restore my sense of zen.

I think I’ll go cook something.