The Door Creaked Open

Man In Black

[Editor’s Note: If you’ve not yet read the first part of David’s vacation in Maine, you’ll want to do so before proceeding to this creepy continuation.]

The door creaked open a bit.

The intruder inside our vacation rental house turned his head to get a better look at us, just enough so all we could see through the crack was one of his eyes. In the moonless sky it looked black and beady.

“Who are you?” The One hooted threateningly. Great, I thought. We’re in the middle of the woods in Stephen King territory, and the usually reasonable love of my life decides to do a bit of chest pounding.

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Maine, At Last

Finally. After more than six months of our Manhattan kitchen doubling as a cat hospice, and two months of our Connecticut cocina looking like a set for The Walking Dead (that kitchen renovation!) The One and I got away on vacation to Mount Desert Island, Maine. A true, unplugged, off-the-grid vacation that includes sitting on the dock at Bass Harbor, star gazing, lobster worshipping, crab devouring, and competitive napping. Read more »

My Kitchen 2.0

New Kitchen

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 »

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