In between the Big Butler Fair and trying unsuccessfully to clamp my hand over Chooch’s mouth as he booed the 4th of July fireworks, we worked on the kitchen. Of course you’ll understand that “we” means Henry, singularly. He rearranged all of the shelves and the microwave stand so that now three whole people can stand in the room at one time without ever having to press up against each other! It’s very feng shui in there now and it makes my heart do a little gyration of joy every time I enter the kitchen.
Henry was also able to extract the pocket door from the wall. (I just learned that it’s called a “pocket door.” Up until the other day, I had been calling it the Door That Was Inhaled By the Wall.) I had been living in this house for a few years before I even noticed that the door was there, but whoever lived there before me had gone to great lengths to ensure that it couldn’t be used anymore. When Henry was painting last weekend, he felt inspired to do something about that (maybe because Chooch and I were screaming FIX THE DOOR FIX THE DOOR WE WANT THE DOOR! I even got out my pom-poms and did a split), which entailed him sawing through the dining room floor and forcefully prying out a strip of wood that had been glued inside the top of the door frame, only to find out that the outlet for the refridgerator was preventing the door from sliding all the way out. (I know, that part confused me, too. I’m actually just making stuff up now.)
Good thing Henry used to pretend to be an electrician in another life! He spent a good portion of Sunday fucking with wires and drills while I edited photos and listened to music, two things I excel at. Eventually, we had a door! I was half-expecting the remains of a putrified body to come falling out of the wall, or perhaps a treasure map to be adhered to the inside of the door with strips of aging masking tape, but no—-just a door. Pretty anticlimatic.
I got to prime one side of it yesterday! It was horribly taxing and boring! Henry did the other side to shut me up.
We still have to do something about the floor. I have big plans, specifically for a utensil holder that I want to make (no really, I can do it by myself!) but Henry seems pretty whatever about it.
I did notice that he never re-hung my 1970s rainbow picture frame. I really do have to do it all around here.
Anyway, I’m just happy that now I can have parties and not die of embarrassment when people accidentally wander into the kitchen, looking for a private nook in which to hook up.
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