Kitchen Chronicles, Take 27
In theory, we'll have a working kitchen (including sink!) by the end of the day on Wednesday.
I considered this Sunday afternoon, as I was washing dishes in the bathroom sink, and realized that this whole remodeling exercise has been our version one of those we-were-so-poor-in-our-younger-days stories that older folks often tell about their newlywed days.
Those of us who get married a little later in life (hey, I was 31, which is perfectly respectable) tend not to have those stories to bond over and eventually amuse our spoiled grandchildren. We don't have to live on Tuna Helper without the tuna or live in a poorly insulated 5th floor walkup. (Though we do each have some fairly impressive grad school / first job poverty stories on our own, there hasn't been call for a lot of shared sacrifice.)
But we'll be able to amuse the family with our tale of the 3 weeks when we didn't have a kitchen sink.
This thought made the whole thing a lot less annoying. Or maybe I'm just giddy at the thought of almost being done.
Or maybe the dust and paint fumes have turned my brain to mush.
