I feel as if I should scream, à la Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, “Bus driver, MOVE THAT BUS!” My kitchen renovation is over. Truly, completely, forever. No sawdust snowflakes drifting into my morning cereal. No smell of freshly applied paint permeating my clothes, my hair, and my Mint Milanos. No stray nails lying in wait for me to step on with bare feet at 4:30 a.m. when letting out Devil Cat. It’s as if a construction crew had never alighted upon my doorstep.
Nonetheless, don’t let anyone—anyone—tell you that living through a renovation is no big deal. If they do, consider them devil spawn determined to usher you down to the ninth circle of Hades, because remodeling is pure, unadulterated hell. I am (barely) living proof. Read more »