Our kitchen, with its 230 square feet of “classic” oak cupboards, drawers and frames, sits in the center of our home. Right. Smack. In. The. Middle. There’s no getting around it, only through it. For the past 18 years the getting through it has been like trekking through Middle-earth’s Mirkwood forest without hobbits or dwarves. While Bilbo Baggins, along with Thorin Oakenshield and his band of dwarves, ventured into the forest along the elf-path in their quest to regain the Lonely Mountain from the dragon Smaug, we simply walked across the tile floor east in search of the more mundane like the bathroom, bedrooms, laundry room and my office and west to the living room, dining room and study.
If all I had to do was walk through 230 square feet of hulking oak, I probably could have continued to live with it another 18 years but, I also had to actually be in it, cooking and cleaning. While not an imp, at a statuesque 5-feet 4-inches, I was dwarfed by the heavy oak of 29 cupboards, eight drawers and the frames that held them in place. And I hated it, all 33,120 square inches of it.
So when my friend of more than three decades called on Oct. 18 to tell me she had a five day window and could come and re-do my kitchen cupboards, I accepted the offer after picking myself up off the floor where I had fallen from shock and awe. Unlike yours truly who’s learned from epic failure experiences that watching HGTV programs and YouTube videos does not qualify me for much of anything, my friend Karel has never met a DIY project she couldn’t do and do impeccably. And so on Oct. 21 it began, the felling of the mighty oak kitchen with sand paper, screw drivers, rolls and rolls of painter’s tape, a gallon-plus some of paint, a tube of clear caulk and paint brushes.
“Twenty-nine cupboard doors on the wall, 29 cupboard doors. Take one down and wash it around, 28 cupboard doors on the wall.” Repeat 28 more times and follow with: “Twenty-nine cupboard doors in the hall, 29 cupboard doors. Move one down and sand it around, 28 cupboard doors in the hall.” Repeat 28 times and follow with: “Twenty nine cupboard doors on the deck, 29 cupboard doors. Slide one over and paint it a color, 28 cupboard doors on the deck.” Repeat 58 times because , oh heck, the one-coat paint really isn’t.
Of course before all the washing and the sanding — which I did because it doesn’t take mad skills — and the painting – which Karel did because it does take mad skills — there was some disassembly required. This involved the removal of 37 cupboard and drawer pulls, 58 hinges and the corresponding 327 screws of various lengths and head shapes.
This task as well as the job of numerically coding all the doors, drawers and hardware fell to my beloved husband who remarked that the ultimate exercise in problem solving was not Sudokus, it was disassembly and reassembly of a kitchen.
As the project progressed with the contents of all 29 cupboards and eight drawers strewn about every available inch of surface and floor space in the dining, living and study rooms, I learned that despite what the DIYers would have you believe, refinishing a kitchen is not a “piece of cake.” It’s rather more like a traditional Baklava, ya gotta get through the 33-layers. I also learned some other things including:
1) Kitchen renovation is basically organized chaos held together by FrogTape with some paint thrown in for good measure.
2) There’s an intimate relationship between paint samples and indecisiveness.
3) No trip to Home Depot is actually complete without two more trips to Home Depot for the things you didn’t know you needed.
4) Kitchen renovation is like riding the Incredicoaster at Disney’s California Adventure — both exciting and terrifying as it compels you to scream “are we done yet?” before you even leave the platform.
5) Once you renovate the kitchen it becomes glaringly obvious that all the other rooms in the house also need a do-over.
But mostly what I learned on Oct. 26 when the cupboards and drawers were painted, reinstalled, all the touch-ups were done and Karel was hugging me tight and saying good-bye, is that true friendship literally paints the colors of your life and, if you’re extra lucky, your 230 square feet of kitchen oak too.