My husband had to put in two weeks notice for time off. The delivery on the cabinets was delayed by a week, but we were just fine with having extra time to do our part of the work. During the last week before go-day, I finished packing up kitchen items we would not be using into bins and boxes. Handling the baking sheets and cake pans, I pondered all the birthday and holiday dinners prepared in this 51-year old kitchen, especially in the 43 years before it became mine. I wondered who had laid the shelf paper and about the children growing up reaching for a glass in these cupboards.
I had two onions, a bell pepper and some fresh garlic left in the pantry, so I bought three more pounds of hamburger and fried it up on Thursday night, the last meal I cooked in the old kitchen. On Friday night, we took out the stove and dishwasher and put them in the garage under a blanket. I took off all the cabinet knobs and set them aside. I don't know what I will do with them, but I know they cost a couple of dollars each to buy. They will most likely be donated to a charity.
Saturday morning, we started the tear out. We needed to be extra careful cutting around the old soffit to protect the ceiling. My dear husband Chuck was the cut-out and destroyer, while I had the job to clean-up, haul-it to-the-dumpster and go-to-the-home store, as well as taking care of the kids and meals. Tools included face masks, hammer, pry bar, skill saw and physical (Grunt) muscle pull. By Sunday night, the kitchen gutting was complete after two nine-hour days. Chuck had the upcoming week off to complete the wiring. We treated ourselves to a pizza, took some aspirin for our aches and went to bed early.
Enjoys life as a dog walker/petsitter, professional naturalist, author, landscape designer, teacher, and artist.