Just a Kitchen

I've got some great advice to share.  Don't go house hunting when you're all drugged up on painkillers.  Not a good idea.  Or then again...maybe it is.

As I have mentioned before, I was desperate to get into a real home, with a yard and more room.  So, a house hunting we went.  We had looked at several (ok more than several) open houses and then met a realtor that we clicked with.  He then began looking seriously on our behalf for our future home.

Just a mere 2 weeks post surgery, and in a very drug-induced state, I fell in love with a cute little single story house.  All it needed was a new kitchen!  I could do that.  I had done it before.  And it was such a cute little house, a small cozy quaint little place.  It fit all my requirements--while on drugs!

I looked up at my husband, hand on my Hawaiian print cane, and batted my eyes.  Would you please buy me this house?  What's a guy to do?  He bought me the house.  We hadn't even sold our condo yet and we now owned a little fixer-upper.  It just needed a kitchen though, right?

So, a couple of days before closing, as all buyers do, we did our walkthrough.  I kinda wish we hadn't.  The house was empty.  I noticed right away that the walls were ugly and dingy, the carpets were dirty and the bathrooms appalling.  What in the world did I get myself into?  I felt like crying.  The house was so much worse than I had ever anticipated and needed work in every single room.  New paint, flooring, kitchen, bathrooms, everything!  And, it was so much smaller than I had remembered.  Also, I haven't mentioned the yard yet.  Ugg.  Front and back, just ugg.  I thought they were much more manicured.  Nope, overgrown doesn't begin to describe that piece of property.  I felt so completely overwhelmed and wondered--just what kind of meds did that doctor give me?

And then came moving day.  We met the movers at our new home, and as they unloaded box after box, I walked the house making lists of all that I needed to do--and thought about how much money I was going to pour into this sad little place.  I am always careful not to overbuild for the neighborhood, so I am frugal in that area--not any other areas mind you, just that one.  So, box by box, and chair by chair, the truck was finally unloaded.

Then the rains began.  It rained and rained and rained, and our new basement flooded and flooded and flooded.  There we were, standing 4 inches deep in water, unpacking box after box and praying that there was nothing of any value being ruined, namely pictures.  I began to cry, which made my husband feel horrible.  What a mess, and it was all because of me!  I made us buy this little ugly house, with a flooded basement, and an icky backyard.  Let's just say, I wasn't having fun.  We quickly unpacked those sopping wet boxes, looking over our treasures, making sure that nothing of any importance was ruined and finally called it a night.  We were exhausted.

As the rains subsided and we began to get some furniture into place, the little house began to take on some character.  Over the next few weeks, it slowly began to grown on us.  We tore out shrubs and cabinets.  We hung pictures and bought new furniture.  We made plans for the bathrooms and backyard.  Things were looking up.

It's hard to move.  It's stressful and fun all at the same time.  Fun and exhausting.  Exhausting and exciting.  I wondered--was this God's plan?  Did I hear Him right?  Or was it the drugs talking?  I seriously did not know!

It's been a few weeks now.  We've settled in.  It's looking better in some rooms and worse in others.  We don't have a kitchen yet, but it's coming.  Cabinets are being delivered today and installed later this week. Floors next Monday and counters a couple of weeks later.  Every room still needs to be painted.  And we are waiting for the vanities to arrive for the bathrooms.  We then will begin painting.  We are true do-it-yourselfers.  Well, sometimes we are, it depends.  On my husband.  You know--on what kind of mood he's in.  Hire someone, or do it myself--these are questions only he can answer.

We are both in love with the neighborhood, the little town and yes, even our new home.  It's beginning to take form.  It's beginning to be ours.  We going to take it slow, ok slower, as we renovate. First the kitchen, then the bathrooms, then the painting, then the years of maintaining all this...and we know that this will go on for the next 20 years.  And I''m ok with that.  Yes, it's true, I only thought it needed a kitchen, however, I was mistaken.  And isn't that kind of how life truly is?  We think it's one thing and then low and behold--gotcha!  It's that and a whole lot more!

We'll make this new home our little place--Grandma's cottage.  We'll love it.  It's the last stop in life for us.  Our little retirement cottage.  So we better make it the best yet!